Best Friends
by C0ldSteel
Summary: Picks up after Fonzie Loves Pinkie and takes a few twists away from the show plot. Fluff. Doesn't have to be slash, but definitely blurs the lines. M rating because Fonzie got into mischief, as expected...
1. Big Brother

_Takes place immediately after "Fonzie Loves Pinkie." At the end of the episode, Fonzie has a last motorcycle ride with Pinkie, the girl he had been engaged to for a brief time. Afterwards, Pinkie's friends bring Richie out to Fonzie and they go their separate ways. The last thing you hear is Fonzie telling Richie not to dangle his feet and Richie saying that he likes to. Could be slash fluff or platonic fluff. Definitely fluff. Oh, and btw Chuck is the Cunningham's oldest kid. I believe he last appeared in season 2. They don't seem to mention him after that.  
_

* * *

**Big Brother  
**

* * *

"I like to dangle my feet," Richie protested over the motor of Fonzie's bike.

"Kids' stuff!" Fonzie answered scornfully. "You lose more shoes that way. And will you get a grip? I'm afraid I'm gonna lose you. You're hangin' on like a junior high girl at her first dance."

"I am not!" But Richie tightened his grip. He wanted to keep the banter going to distract Fonzie from his having just said goodbye to the amazing girl he had been planning to marry. You never knew if he was going to plow ahead like nothing had happened, or hide and pout for a week (contrary to the declaration he had once made that "The Fonz does not pout.")

"Pick up your feet, or I will turn this bike around."

"You'd take us back to the middle of nowhere, Fonz? That doesn't make sense."

"I'd _leave_ you back in the middle of nowhere. Now that makes perfect sense."

Richie could tell from the tone that Fonzie was grinning. Things seemed okay, but he knew they could change at a moment's notice. He found places to rest his feet without accidentally touching his sneakers to Fonzie's boots—the Fonz was funny about things like that. You had to cling to his waist to ride behind him, but heaven forbid you bumped his foot.

"That's better. Better." Fonzie often repeated a word for emphasis. Now he revved the motor and shifted up. Soon they got back to paved roads and the ride got smoother.

Richie was afraid to look over Fonzie's shoulder to see how fast they were going, but whatever the speed, he was sure his mother wouldn't approve. They weren't wearing helmets, after all. He wanted to advise Fonzie not to go so fast, but he didn't want to distract the driver and cause a wreck (or worse, get called a chicken). Instead, he held on even tighter.

Holding on tighter seemed to be the signal for Fonzie to shift up again. He handled the throttle so perfectly that the gear shifts were smoother than those most of Richie's friends made in their cars.

_Just stay calm_—_Fonzie knows what he's doing,_ Richie told himself. He closed his eyes against the rushing wind. Tears were being whipped out of his eyes and into his hair along his temples. He wished he had goggles and prayed he didn't get a bug in his eye. He sheltered his face behind Fonzie's neck.

Finally, the wind died down a little and Richie could open his eyes again. He peeked up at the speedometer and blinked at it, trying to clear his vision. _Forty miles an hour? If we're going forty now, what were we doing before? I don't want to know..._ Tired from the tense ride, Richie relaxed and let his chin droop onto Fonzie's shoulder, watching the speedometer drop down to thirty as they approached town.

"Are you limp with relief, or you getting ready to blow in my ear?" Fonzie queried. His tone sounded a little ridiculing, but not downright hostile. He was teasing.

Richie decided to risk teasing back. "Oh, well, with the breeze going by, you'll never know the difference."

Fonzie chuckled and then said, "All right, sit up" in his no-nonsense tone.

Richie obediently straightened. He glanced around to see if anyone was staring at them. There weren't many people around, and no one seemed to be staring. That was a little disappointing, because when Fonzie actually gave a guy a ride, that was a rare event and worth bragging about. But he felt more relieved. It was kind of nice to think he wouldn't have to give a blow-by-blow to Ralph and Potsie later on. If Fonzie gave him a ride, it wasn't national news. It made sense. They lived at the same address. Why shouldn't Fonzie give him a ride now and then?

"You want me to let you off anywhere?" Fonzie asked, snapping Richie out of his thoughts.

"No, I figured we should go right home. Mom will have dinner waiting."

"Okay; I'll take you to the house, then."

"You come too—I'm sure she's expecting you."

"Nah, I think I'll just fix a little something in my pad. I don't wanna be around a lot of people right now."

Richie pressed his lips together, trying to decide how to cajole his friend without being too pushy. "She'll be awfully disappointed, Fonz. You know how mom is when she knows someone's had a disappointment."

"Yeah. She's gotta talk about it an' fuss over you an' ask a lot of personal questions. Don't get me wrong, Cunningham. Your mom's a doll. But sometimes..."

"I think she said she was going to make pot roast."

"So, what."

"And mashed potatoes."

"Oh, yeah?"

"And gravy."

Fonzie was silent a few moments. They were getting close to the house. As he slowed down to approach the driveway, he asked carelessly, "Will there be some of those sweet baby carrots?"

"I'm sure there will. Mom always makes baby carrots to go with her pot roast."

Fonzie cut the motor and they coasted to a stop beside the garage. "Well..." he said, tilting his head to one side. "I guess I could come in. Just... you know, so I don't hurt her feelings."

"Thanks, Fonz. You know she really thinks of you as one of the family. We all do."

"Yeah, sure. I know."

"Really, though. I think when Chuck went to college, Mom worried about me not having an older brother around anymore... but then you moved in, and she doesn't seem to worry so much."

"Yeah? How come?"

"Well... I think she feels like you're standing in. Kinda keeping Chuck's place warm for him, you know?" Richie said tentatively, trying to leave room to backpedal.

"So... I'm Chuck's benchwarmer?"

"No, no..."

"Cause when he comes back... is he gonna want the garage?"

"No, it's not like that. I mean, he'll always be my older brother, but now you'll always be part of the family, too. And if Chuck does move back here after college, he'll just have to get a different place, that's all."

"But he's family. I mean, real family. Actual blood family."

"Sure, but you live here now. He left, and that's that. That's what happens when you get up and go someplace—if someone takes your spot while you're gone, tough luck."

Fonzie was keeping very still, impossible for Richie to read from behind.

"But you're still family, no matter how long you're away," Richie continued. "And it's like that with you now, too. If you moved and came back to visit, you'd still be family."

"And, uh... your folks feel this way, too?"

"Sure, they do. Mom would be heartbroken if you didn't come at holidays."

"Well... that's nice." He was still trying to sound casual, but Richie detected something in the hurried statement that made him think the Fonz was getting a bit "misty." Suddenly, Fonzie looked down and said sharply, "Cunningham, why are you still holding onto me?"

Richie realized he still had his arms around Fonzie's waist. Hurriedly, he pulled back. "Oh, uh... ha ha..." he laughed nervously. "Guess I sort of froze that way. Sorry about that."

"My driving is not _that_ scary." The teasing tone was back.

"No, no... I guess I'm just not used to going so fast. It was fine."

"Fine?"

"Great. Great, Fonz."

Fonzie hopped off the bike with a self-satisfied, "That's right. Sorry I snapped."

"Oh, that's okay."

"I know. But it's not something a big brother should do." He faltered. "...Right?"

"Right," Richie agreed. He swung his leg over the bike, put down the kickstand and joined Fonzie to walk toward the house. "Unless your little sister is spying on you making out with a girl."

"I'll remember that."

"You might need to. Joanie's definitely accepted you into this family, so look out!"

As they neared the front door, Richie was surprised to feel an arm around his shoulders. It didn't last very long, but it was so rare for Fonzie to make a gesture like that when he wasn't lecturing... or threatening.

Richie opened the door and led the way inside. "Mom," he called, "we're home."

* * *

_I wrote this as a one-shot, but if there's enough interest I might do more. Hope you liked your dose of sappy fluff._


	2. Comfort Food

_Thanks for the reviews. Here's another "episode" for you. ^^_

* * *

**Comfort Food  
**

* * *

"Mom," Richie called, "we're home."

Fonzie followed Richie into the dining area as if he were being led on a museum tour—like he was someone brought to marvel over something that had once been considered very ordinary.

"Good," Marion's voice answered from the kitchen. "I've made some of those cute little potatoes that your father likes, but I know some of you prefer them mashed, so I've got a separate dish here... You like them mashed, don't you, Arthur?"

Fonzie found his voice. "Heeey, Mrs. C, don't go to any extra trouble on my account."

"Oh, don't be silly. It isn't any trouble. Richie, call your father and Joanie for dinner."

As Richie headed for the stairs, Fonzie stepped into the kitchen. "Anything I can do to help?" he asked the busy but capable redheaded woman working at the counter.

"That's very sweet of you, dear, but you don't have to do anything."

"Have to? _Have to?"_ Fonzie repeated in an astounded tone. "Mrs. C, anything I do for you in this kitchen, I don't _have_ to do. I _get_ to."

Marion gave a happy sigh. "Sometimes I wish Richie were more like you. Tell you what: you can work the butter into the mashed potatoes. Potato-mashing is really a man's job anyway."

Fonzie flexed his right arm. "These muscles were made to mash."

In a short time, Fonzie was helping Marion put the food on the table, complete with baby carrots. Howard said a blessing and the family began passing the dishes around.

Although he was sure the Cunninghams were sorry for him, Fonzie thought to himself that their lives were basically unchanged from the time before Pinkie came to town. They would go on in their nice, middle-class way, the same as ever. He looked down at his mashed potatoes and gravy. He felt hungry, but suddenly eating seemed like a bad idea. He put his hands in his lap.

"Mom," said Joanie, "when Richie goes to college, can I have his room?"

"Will ya lay off my room?" said Richie.

"Richie may not be going far away when he goes to college," Howard pointed out. "He might still live here instead of the dorm."

"Aw, man," Joanie pouted, putting her chin in her hands.

"Elbows off the table, dear," Marion scolded. Then she said, "Arthur, you're not eating."

Fonzie looked up to find everyone staring at him: Marion with pity, Howard with apprehension, Richie with apology and Joanie with fascination. "Oh, well, uh... I'm just waiting for the stimulating conversation to get my appetite back, you know? I had kind of a late lunch, and um..."

"Yeah, a late lunch," Richie chimed in, trying to help.

Fonzie shot him a glare that said, "Stay out of it."

"It's all right, dear. We understand," Marion said in a knowing tone. "But you really should try to eat."

"I'm fine," he answered, picking up his fork and scooping up some potato as proof. He shoveled it into his mouth, chewed mechanically and swallowed. He gave a thumbs-up to the waiting housewife.

"There, that's the spirit. You'll be over her in no time."

"Marion!" Howard exclaimed.

"Well, I'm only trying to help."

Marion looked away and changed the subject, but Fonzie knew she kept watching him throughout the meal, so he did his best to eat a little of everything. Finally, he sat back. "Well, it was very, very good, but I could not eat another bite."

"But you haven't cleaned your plate, and there's dessert," Marion protested.

"Hey, I ate my veggies. Wrap up a little dessert and I'll take it up to my apartment for later. How's that grab you?"

"Of course, that'll be fine." Marion hopped up from the table.

Fonzie got up too, until Marion was through the kitchen door. Then he sat down again until she returned. He heard a small, exasperated sound from Howard, but he pretended not to. He knew it annoyed Howard that someone was more polite to his wife than he was on a regular basis. The annoyance was not with Fonzie, but with himself for letting his chivalry slack off.

"Here you are," Marion said, handing Fonzie a plate covered with foil. "It's a slice of peach cobbler."

"Thanks, Mrs. C. You are the best." He kissed her forehead. "I'll be going now... night, Mr. C. Richie. Shortcake."

The others said good night in return and Fonzie let himself out. He went up to his apartment and put the plate in his icebox.

He was about to iron his tee shirt for the next day when someone knocked on his door. He ignored it. A moment later, the knock came again, accompanied by a female voice.

"Fonzie, are you in there? It's me, Eileen."

Fonzie draped his shirt over the ironing board and hesitated. Let her in, or not? No doubt she wanted to comfort him and make her bid to be his next steady. Comfort was nice. But Fonzie didn't want another steady—not now, anyway—and he didn't feel like taking advantage of her. Not now, anyway. He smiled to himself a little.

With a sigh, he went to the door and opened it just wide enough to talk comfortably. "Hey, Eileen. It's nice of you to come, but listen. The Fonz needs a little time to just breathe, you know? Kinda cleanse the pallet."

"Okay, Fonzie," Eileen said, covering her disappointment well. "When you're ready, just say when."

"You got it."

Eileen turned to go back down the stairs.

"Just a second." Fonzie took her by the shoulders and gave her a forceful kiss that melted away into sweetness. "There. Later."

Eileen floated down the steps to her car.

He took a deep breath of the evening air and slipped back inside. Eileen hadn't made the pain leave, but she kind of cushioned it a little.

* * *

Richie kept an eye on Fonzie over the next several days. At first, things seemed to get better. Fonzie started dating again, he dug into his work at the garage, and things seemed close to normal. But gradually, Richie realized that Fonzie was just going through the motions. He never dated the same girl twice in a row, and he worked more than was probably good for him. He had so little free time that he put up a waiting list outside the men's room at Arnold's so "non-chicks" could make appointments with him. The list was getting long.

One day, Richie decided to count the names on the list. Only two had been crossed off at the top; after that, twenty-eight names stood resolutely on the list, headed by his own. A few of them were repeats from over-anxious guys—a customer who wanted his car done quick, and Potsie Webber, who was desperate for advice about girls. Richie had been at the top of the list for three days now. He scowled at it.

"I've had it," he declared, stepping toward the door.

"Hey, Rich, don't go in there," Ralph Malph called.

"Yeah," Potsie agreed. "It's the first time the Fonz has been in there more than two minutes in a few days, and we don't want anyone disturbing him."

"Oh, you don't, huh?" said Richie condescendingly. "Have you looked at that list?"

"Yeah..."

"Well, I've been at the top for three days, and more names keep getting added. I'm not sitting around for an appointment—I'm going in!"

As he pushed his way into the men's room, Richie heard Ralph telling Potsie, "There goes either the bravest or most foolish man I know..."

"Fonzie," Richie said when he saw his friend, "I want to talk to you."

"Make an appointment," Fonzie said dryly, turning his head to examine his perfect hair in the mirror.

"I DID!" Richie shouted.

Fonzie's eyes flashed. "Whoa."

"I—I mean, I did," Richie said, much more quietly.

"So, wait your turn like all the other kids."

"It is my turn. I've been at the top of the list for three days. We're friends, Fonz. I shouldn't have to make an appointment with you."

"You want special treatment, huh? I tell you, Cunningham, you are acting really selfish all of a sudden."

"I don't think so. You know what I think?" Richie gathered his courage. "I think you're the selfish one."

Fonzie tore his eyes away from the mirror. "What?"

"You heard me. You've been acting weird since Pinkie left."

"Weird?"

"Yeah. All these one-time dates and one-night stands and up to your elbows in grease the rest of the time, and no time for your old friends—you need to snap out of it!"

"Hey. The Fonz does not need to 'snap out of it.' The Fonz snaps _other people _out of it."

"Sure, that's why this is all wrong. I know you're still upset about her leaving, and you won't admit it."

"I don't have to admit anything to anybody," Fonzie snapped. "It's none of your business or anybody else's. You call yourself my friend? Leave me alone."

Richie was slightly taken aback, but he recovered quickly with his superior chuckle. "Ho ho ho. Leave you alone? Is that really what you want?"

Fonzie made a broad gesture with his hands, as if giving Richie permission to do his worst.

"Okay, fine. That's exactly what I'll do. From now on, that's what you'll be—alone." Richie paced slowly toward the door, hoping Fonzie would stop him. When he got outside, he resignedly scratched his name off the waiting list.

Ralph and Potsie hurried up to stare at the list.

"All right," Potsie said enthusiastically, "he saw Richie. One name closer to my appointment."

"Wake up, Potsie, there are still eight names ahead of you," Ralph pointed out. "At this rate, it'll be weeks before your turn comes. Maybe months."

"Forget it, guys," Richie told them. "Fonzie's too good for his old friends now. Too busy, and too superior. He doesn't want me around anymore, and if you want to save yourselves some trouble, you'll keep out of his way, too."

"Aw, what'll we do without the Fonz?" Ralph whined.

"Yeah," Potsie chimed in. "I'm scared enough to go home alone when Fonzie likes us. When he doesn't..." He shuddered.

"Buck up. Your neighborhood isn't so bad," said Richie.

"Who said anything about the neighborhood? It's my dad I'm scared of."

* * *

_To be continued... Thanks for reading. ^^  
_


	3. Out of Sight

_This story's been pretty easy writing so far, so I've gone ahead while I'm in the mood. Hope you enjoy it._

* * *

**Out of Sight  
**

* * *

Fonzie and Richie hadn't spoken to each other for several days. Richie tried not to let it bother him, but he couldn't help feeling a little glum, and Potsie and Ralph seemed to take it even harder than he did.

"Come on, you guys," Richie said one day, "let's not mope around—it's a nice day. Let's go down to the Y and swim."

"Oh, boy, the YMCA," Ralph said sarcastically. "No girls."

"We can always walk there in our swimsuits and pick up chicks on the way," Potsie suggested.

"And do what with 'em when we get there?"

"Well... suppose we don't actually get there?"

Ralph and Potsie began chuckling.

Richie rolled his eyes. "Knowing you, you'd get arrested. Well, I want to swim. Come if you want to."

In the end, Potsie decided not to go along. It wasn't until several months later that they learned it was because Potsie couldn't swim—at the time, he told them he remembered some chore he had to get done that day or his father would lock him out of the house. In any case, Ralph and Richie headed to the Y. They didn't bother going home for their swimsuits; you weren't supposed to actually wear them into the pool at the Y anyway, so walking there in them might seem a little suspicious to any girls they met.

"Boy, I hope they start letting us wear swimming trunks soon," Richie muttered as he got undressed, trying to avoid looking at an overweight man across the locker room.

"I hope they start letting chicks swim with us first," Ralph replied saucily. "Hey, maybe we could smuggle a girl in."

Richie blinked at him a few moments. "..._how?"_

"We could dress her as a boy... well, until she was in the locker room. After that it might be a problem..."

"I meant how would you convince a girl to do it?"

"Oh, yeah. Well, I can't think of everything."

The boys trooped out to the pool. Richie jumped in right away, but Ralph started wading in slowly.

"Will you just get it over-with?" Richie scolded. "You look ridiculous."

"I have to get used to the water gradually. Don't rush me," Ralph said defensively.

"Sure, I won't rush you," Richie said, gliding closer. "I'll just cheer you on." He reached up and bumped the backs of Ralph's knees with his forearm. The redhead toppled into the water with an unmanly yell.

"Way to go, champ," Richie said, grinning.

Ralph stood on the bottom of the pool and crossed his arms over his chest. "Thanks a lot." He shivered.

"Come on. By the time you 'adjusted' I'd be done swimming."

For the next half hour or so, the boys raced each other across the pool, ducked each other under the water and played Marco Polo with some other boys from school. When they tired of that, they started trying to out-dive each other. It was shaping up to be a pretty fun afternoon, and for a while Richie forgot about Fonzie.

Neither of them could remember afterwards just why they had gotten it into their heads to disregard the "no running" rule and go racing around to front flip into the deep end... it just happened. Sometimes when the rule was broken, it was quickly reinforced by the lifeguard, but on this occasion the rule had to be reinforced by a lesson learned the hard way.

As Richie jogged around the corner, his foot slipped on a puddle someone (possibly he or Ralph) had dripped on the pool's edge. He scrambled to catch himself, but one foot went into the pool, and one stayed on the edge. It was too late to catch himself on land, and too late to throw himself completely into the water. That was all he remembered.

* * *

"He's awake."

"Oh, Richard, speak to me. Are you all right?"

"Of course he's not all right, mom. He's in the hospital."

"Joanie!"

Richie blinked, but there was nothing to see; the room was pitch dark. "Mom?"

"We're all here, dear."

He felt Marion take his hand.

"What happened? My clothes!" he suddenly exclaimed in a panic.

"Don't worry, Ralph wrapped you in a towel before the paramedics got there," Joanie reported enthusiastically.

"Yes, and the boys got your clothes from the locker room, too," said Marion.

"Oh, okay. Did they go home?"

"They did last night—it's morning now. They're out looking for Fonzie," said Howard.

"Oh... they shouldn't have bothered. Fonzie won't care."

"Don't be ridiculous," said Marion. "Of course he will. You boys are such good friends. Friends always come to the hospital when someone gets a skull fracture."

"A WHAT?!"

"Marion!" Howard said stridently. "Look, Richie, the doctor said it's a very slight fracture..."

"How do you 'slightly' break your head, dad?"

"Well, there's a very short, very fine crack in your skull. With proper care, it'll heal like any other broken bone, and you should be fine."

"You cracked it on the side of the pool," Joanie said with relish. "Ralph said it was a loud _thunk."_

"Joanie," Marion scolded.

"What? He's gonna be okay. Dad just said so."

Richie sighed. Little sisters. "Do we have to keep it so dark in here? Are they afraid my eyes are too sensitive for the light right now?"

There was a silence, and that scared Richie almost more than the mention of the skull fracture.

"Guys?"

"We're still here, Richie," Marion said. "It's just... we... Howard?"

"Boy, you really do have a broken head," said Joanie. "The lights are on—it's broad daylight."

"It is?" Richie swallowed. He turned his eyes one way and another, but he still couldn't see a thing.

"Now, don't panic," said Howard. "The doctor told us temporary blindness is a common side effect of a head injury."

"How common?"

"Well... I don't know exactly. But it's been known to happen."

"How temporary?"

"Uh... I don't know. I'll ask the doctor. Marion, why don't you take Joanie to school; she's already late."

"Aw, can't I stay out today?" Joanie whined. "I want to stay at my brother's bedside..."

"That's exactly why you should go to school. Let Richie get some rest."

"Yes, come along dear," Marion chimed in.

"Oh, all right. I'll come back after school," Joanie said.

"Okay," said Richie.

When they were gone, Howard told a passing nurse that he wanted to see Richie's doctor. Then he came back to sit by the bed. "How do you feel?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know. Really weird. Yesterday was such a normal day."

"Yeah. Are you in pain?"

"Not really... my head feels kind of heavy."

"They gave you some strong pain medication."

They fell silent; then Richie heard footsteps approach.

"Fonzie," Howard said, "you made it."

"Yeah..." Fonzie's deep voice said slowly. "Word on the street is, Richie Cunningham slipped at the Y and whacked his noggin pretty good—guess it's true."

"Yes, I'm afraid it is true. We're just waiting for the doctor to clear some things up for us—oh, here he is."

"Good morning, Mr. Cunningham," came a voice Richie didn't know. "Good morning, Richie. Good to see you awake."

Howard introduced Fonzie to doctor Bates and Fonzie responded with "yo."

"Now, doctor," Howard said, "Richie just told us he can't see. The room seems totally dark to him."

"He can't see," Fonzie exclaimed. "What do you mean, can't see?"

Richie felt a hand lifting his chin.

"Rich, how many fingers am I holding up?"

Richie frowned. "I don't know, Fonz... I can't tell."

Fonzie backed away. "I wasn't holding any up. Doc... this kid is blind as a bat!"

"Thanks," Richie muttered.

"Like I told your folks, blindness is not unusual with this type of injury," the doctor said calmly.

"That's what I told him," said Howard.

"The back of the skull houses the part of the brain that processes the light captured by the eyes. So, when a patient suffers a blow to the back of the head..."

"His lights go out," Fonzie finished.

"Exactly."

"And, uh... is this usually a temporary thing?" asked Howard.

"I wouldn't say usually, but often. Many people regain sight in one or both eyes. Sometimes their vision returns completely to normal, but every case is different."

"Is there anything we can do?"

"Just give him lots of rest and protect the injury. I've written a prescription for pain medication for when he goes home. I think we should keep him another few days, to be safe."

"All right. Thank you, doc."

"I've got to see another patient now; someone will be in soon with Richie's breakfast."

"I don't know if I can eat..." Richie murmured.

"They won't be giving you solid food yet," Howard told him. "And I'll help you eat it, if it's missing your mouth that you're worried about."

"Hey, Mr. C," Fonzie interrupted, "would you mind giving me a little time with the kid?"

"Well... sure, if Richie doesn't mind."

"You go ahead, dad," Richie said bravely. "You should go open the store anyway, right?"

"Are you sure? Don't you want me to stick around while you have breakfast?"

"Hey, some cute little nurse will help him eat," said Fonzie.

"It's fine," Richie assured him.

"Okay." Howard took Richie's hand. "You can buzz the nurse's station if you need anything," he said, lifting Richie's hand to show him where the intercom was.

"Okay, I will. Have a good day, dad."

"Hm. See you later."

"Poor choice of words," Fonzie muttered.

Richie felt the edge of his bed sink down as Fonzie sat next to him.

"You gonna be okay, Red?"

"I don't know. I'm not gonna lie—I'm pretty worried about this blindness."

"Hey... well, you just have to wait and... have to wait, right?"

"You were going to say 'wait and see.'"

"Yeah. But I caught myself."

Richie couldn't help smiling a little.

"Listen, uh... about the other day. I shouldn't have got so ticked off with you when you were just trying to help. I'm snnhm—" the last word died in Fonzie's throat.

"Oh, that's all right," Richie said, looking away out of habit, even though he couldn't see Fonzie's face. "I'm sorry I got so frustrated. I just made things worse, didn't I?"

"Eh. Not really. I got thinking about what you said. You never told me to get over Pinkie... you just said I _wasn't_ over her. And you're right, it's not going to get better right away, and I probably shouldn't pretend to be fine all the time. But you know me—the Fonz shows no pain."

"I know. I just want you to know it's okay...you can talk to me about this stuff. You know I don't blab."

"Yeah, I know. Lemme tell you something: standing up to bullies and jerks always made me feel really tough, you know? But it takes one heck of a tough guy to stand up to his friend."

Richie felt another smile creeping over his face. "Yeah. So... we're still friends?"

"You bet." Fonzie took Richie's hand and squeezed it. "And don't you ever scare me like this again, you hear?"

"Scare you?"

"Figuratively speaking, of course," Fonzie amended. "The Fonz knows no fear."

"Right. Hey, you sure you can't give my skull the ol' Fonz fist and get my sight back?"

"Ay, I'm pretty amazing, but only Jesus could guarantee results like that. I don't wanna run the risk of making that crack bigger."

"Good point. Thanks anyway."

Fonzie didn't let go of his hand.

"I hope you weren't in the middle of something too important," said Richie.

"Nah, I'd just gone down to the garage. I told 'em it was a family emergency. I've got the day off."

"You did? You do?"

"Yeah. So make sure you leave a couple o' nurses for me."

"Ha. Okay."

* * *

_A/N: I did a little research and read that in the 50's the YMCA was strictly a men and boys' organization, and that they did indeed swim naked at the time. If I got my facts straight, in the 60's swimsuits became optional. If anyone has firsthand information to the contrary, feel free to let me know.  
_

_Also, I know this sort of plot is done over and over and over... they keep reusing it because it's appealing. If you're not a fan of cheese, better get off at this stop. ^_-_


	4. Hangin' at the Hospital

_Here's the fourth installment. If this story goes on long enough, I may tie it into the episode called "Fonzie's Blindness," and then I can contrast the two experiences. xD  
_

* * *

**Hangin' at the Hospital  
**

* * *

Fonzie stayed at the hospital all day. Marion brought some soup to them at lunchtime, Joanie visited for about an hour after school, and Howard stopped in after work. They all found Fonzie still sitting by his friend—sometimes with a nurse under his arm.

"I closed the store a little early," Howard told Richie. "I wanted to get over here and check on you."

"I'm fine, dad. Mom and Joanie have both been back to see me, and Fonzie's been here the whole time."

"Really?" Howard gave Fonzie a grateful look. "That's very nice of you, Fonzie. I appreciate that."

Fonzie shrugged with a martyred expression. "Hey, you can be appreciative, but I'm not doin' it for you, Mr. C."

A nurse in the hallway giggled.

"Just you keep your motor running, Georgia," Fonzie called to her.

Howard cleared his throat. "Well, I hope you're not being a bad influence on Richie..."

"Dad," Richie cut in, "what am I gonna see?"

There was an awkward silence before Fonzie broke into his deep chuckle. "Good one, Rich."

Howard relaxed. "Good point. Are you two eating all right?"

"Yeah," Richie answered. "Mom brought us soup at lunch. And with Fonzie here, the nurses will get us whatever we want. It's like having room service."

"I see. Make sure you don't abuse that power, young man."

Fonzie put on an innocent look. "Ayyy. I only use my power for good, not evil."

Howard went home to dinner, and Fonzie supervised a nurse feeding Richie some pudding and milk. He kept his supervision light, devoting a little more attention to Georgia, who was in his lap taking an unauthorized break from her duties.

When Richie finished eating, Fonzie told Georgia, "You'd better go down and send up my dinner now. Then you get back out there and make some more sick people better." He kissed her. "That's right. Off you go."

He stayed and talked to Richie a good hour after he'd eaten. Then Georgia poked her head into the room again.

"Excuse me, Fonzie. Visiting hours are over."

"Okay, thank you, doll face. I can come back tomorrow, Rich."

"Okay... Fonzie?"

Fonzie heard the great weight suspended in the up-swing pronunciation of his name. He sat on the edge of Richie's bed again. "Yeah? What is it?"

"Can't you stay here tonight?"

"In the hospital? I'm a well person. Well people don't sleep at the hospital."

"I know. It's just... I've been awake most of the day, but I haven't done anything. I haven't even seen what my room looks like..."

"Oh, let me tell you, you're not missing much. There's your bed, a couple of chairs, this empty bed over here, some windows... that's about it."

"I feel restless. And it's weird sleeping in a strange place, especially a strange place you've never seen. I mean, how would you like to wake up one day to pitch darkness and have to learn where you are just by taking other people's word for it? For all I know, I've been in a coma for years and I've been moved to a hospital in New York, and Ralph and Potsie are dead or married with kids, and—"

"Wait, wait, hold it!" Fonzie exclaimed. "What is all this crazy talk? The accident was yesterday, you're in a Milwaukee hospital, Ralph and Potsie are still Ralph and Potsie, and I'm still the Fonz! And you're still you, as far as I know. Same freckles."

Richie sighed. "I know. I believe you. It's just... kind of scary."

"All right. I get that. Just 'cause I don't get scared doesn't mean I don't understand scared. It's gotta be pretty crazy for you. But you gotta trust me; everything will be just fine, and I'll come back in the morning. All you're gonna do is sleep. You don't need me here for that."

Richie didn't look satisfied, but before he could say anything else, an orderly entered the room.

"Hey, visiting hours are over, kid. Time to go."

Fonzie stared at him. "I don't think you understand," he said slowly. "The kid is the patient. _I'm_ the visitor."

The orderly stared back. "I meant you."

"Well, now I know you _really_ don't understand."

"Don't hit him, Fonz," Richie said, full of concern.

Fonzie clenched his fists. "Oh, I'm not gonna hit him. I'm just gonna help him out a little. You see, my friend here has just gone through the first blind day of his life. It's got him kinda shook up. He's not ready to be on his own in a world without light with no one he knows around, especially not with only ignorant people like you to take care of him. So I'm gonna do you a favor: I'm gonna stay in this nice empty bed next to his, and I'm gonna be your on-call tonight, just 'cause I'm a sweetheart of a guy."

"But you can't do that."

"Why not?"

"What if someone sick or injured needs that bed?"

Fonzie coughed. "Oh, look, I think I'm coming down with something. I'm sick. I'd better stay here overnight for observation."

"Look, buddy—"

Richie winced.

"I am not your buddy."

"Listen, sir—"

"Sir is better."

"You can't stay in that bed without permission from the doctor."

"Oh, doc Bates and I have already spoken."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah."

"Fine. I'm going to go find him and see for myself."

"You do that."

The orderly left, and Fonzie hurried to the intercom.

"You shouldn't have lied to him like that," said Richie.

"I did not lie. The Fonz does not lie. I said we spoke. We did speak." Fonzie spoke into the intercom. "Nurse's station? This is the Fonz in Richie Cunningham's room, 208. I need the okay from doctor Bates to stay in Cunningham's room as an overnight attendant."

There was a long pause.

"Maybe it didn't go through," Richie suggested.

"It went through," Fonzie assured him. "Three, two, one..."

"Fonzie?" came Georgia's voice.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Doctor Bates said you can stay."

"Thank you very much, gorgeous. Send me up a toothbrush. Good night."

"Good night, Fonzie," came a chorus of female voices.

* * *

Richie awoke to an agonizing headache. He turned his head, trying to get some inkling of what time it was, then remembered that he couldn't see anything anyway.

_I'm in the hospital. I fractured my skull. And it really hurts. _He listened, but there were only very faint sounds from somewhere else in the ward. "Fonzie?" he whispered. When he still couldn't hear anything, he tried a little louder. "Fonzie?"

"Yo," came the muffled answer, a little late.

"You awake?"

"As of this moment, I think I'm pretty awake."

"Oh. Is it morning yet?"

"Uh, yeah... I think probably in England they're sitting down to their little buttered scones about now, you know?"

"That early, huh?"

"It's almost three o'clock."

"Oh, sorry to wake you. It's just..." Richie gingerly moved his fingers over his bandaged head.

"You okay?"

"I think my pain medication wore off."

"Wore off? They got you on a drip."

"Well, maybe it's too slow a drip or something."

"Hurting pretty bad, huh? Well, don't worry. I'll take care of it."

Richie heard Fonzie get up and move around to the intercom. "Hello, Georgia?"

"Georgia went home," someone answered.

"Oh, sorry. I just got Georgia on my mind."

Richie grinned.

"So, who's this?"

"This is Jeana. Who's this?"

"This is the Fonz. I'm with your patient in room 208. His happy tap ain't doin' its job, and his poor little fractured skull is killin' him, so be a honey and bring up some more?"

A pause, then a dry "Anything else?"

"Yeah." Fonzie snapped his fingers. "Bring yourself up here, too."

"You'll never change, will you?" Richie muttered.

"Hey, when you got a good thing going, you don't change it, do you?"

"Fair enough." Richie winced and rubbed at the parts of his scalp he could get to. "This is far and away the worst headache I've ever had, Fonz."

"Sorry to hear that, kid." Fonzie sat on the edge of Richie's bed. "Just hang on; my girl Jeana's on her way up with more of that juice for you."

"Your girl Jeana?"

"I'm an optimist."

Richie smiled again, in spite of his pain.

Jeana arrived with a new IV.

"Well, there is the best medicine in the world," Fonzie said appreciatively.

"Morphine," Jeana declared.

"Morphine? I thought you said your name was Jeana."

A giggle escaped Richie before he could stop it. His head suffered a new wave of pain. "Ow."

"Oh, get out of my way, you rascal. Let me switch this out," the nurse ordered.

"Of course. I'll just step over here and... uh, enjoy the view."

"You seen one street in the middle of the night, you seen them all."

"Not that view."

"You're not squeamish, are you Fonz?" Richie asked.

"Squeamish? Me? Nooooo. It's just you never know how someone's gonna react when they get get the tubes in their arm changed. I figured you might not want me to see you like that, you know? So, I'll wait over here."

"Well, at least I don't have to worry about seeing the IV," Richie said, trying to keep his spirits up. His head was hurting so much, he hardly cared when he felt the nurse insert the new drip.

"There; you should feel better soon," Jeana told him soothingly.

"Thank you. I appreciate you coming in the middle of the night."

"Cunningham, that's her job," Fonzie pointed out.

"Oh. Oh, yeah."

"No trouble. Try to sleep," said Jeana.

"I'll walk you out," Fonzie offered.

They must have been communicating a bit through body language, because Jeana had seemed a little cranky toward Fonzie when she first came up, but now she didn't protest his offer.

A minute later, Fonzie came back into the room. "Okay, Rich. Ready for lights out?" He chuckled.

Richie sighed. "Very funny."

"What, you joked about it before."

"I know. Guess I should just be glad Ralph's not here. I wonder why they haven't stopped by."

"Ralph and Potsie? Probably feeling bad for you. Survivor guilt or something. I bet they'll come tomorrow."

"Yeah." Richie put his hands to his temples. "I sure hope that stuff kicks in soon."

The bed sagged as it took Fonzie's weight once again. "Tell me straight—how bad does it hurt?"

"On a scale of 'annoying' to 'I can't take it?' An eight or a nine."

"Whoa."

"Yeah."

"Well, um... you don't have to be brave for me or anything, you know? You just do what you gotta do, and don't worry about anything."

_He thinks I'm going to cry,_ Richie realized. "I'll be okay. It's just... I wish I could do something to make it go away quicker, but I can't. And it hurts so much..." To his chagrin, Richie realized that tears were indeed forming in his eyes. _Crying over a headache. Great._

Richie felt Fonzie's rough hand settle on his shoulder near his neck and begin to massage his tense muscles.

"It's gonna be okay, champ," Fonzie said in a surprisingly gentle voice.

At first, all Richie could think about was how weird it was that it took a blinding injury to allow him to "see" this side of Fonzie. Then, as the massage moved to his neck, he realized that Fonzie's kneading out some of his tension allowed him to concentrate on that rather than on the pain in his head. The pain even seemed to be lessening. He closed his eyes and focused on the strong fingers moving over his skin and coaxing the knots out of his neck.

After a few minutes, Fonzie asked, "You falling asleep on me, Red?"

"I think I am. I feel a little better now. Thanks."

"No problem."

Fonzie's hand moved back to Richie's shoulder, and Richie was surprised to feel what he was pretty sure was a kiss near his eyebrow. _Maybe not a kiss... that could have been... no, that was a kiss. What's the protocol here? Just pretend it didn't happen. If he wants to say anything about it, he'll bring it up. If he doesn't, I'll take it to my grave,_ he decided.

With that settled, he soon went back to sleep.

* * *

_Now it's officially wandered into shounen ai, the land of "are they platonic or not?" Can read either way so far. It might go into stronger stuff eventually; not sure. Reviews are welcome. Share your opinions, but be nice. Extra points if you caught the song title. ^^  
_


	5. Laying Out Terms

_More angst-fluff for your consumption and enjoyment. This chapter has some auto repair stuff; hope it's not too dull. I kept it super simple, so even non-car-enthusiasts won't have trouble following it.  
_

* * *

**Laying Out Terms  
**

* * *

As Fonzie predicted, Ralph and Potsie came with Joanie to see Richie after school the next day.

"You're a celebrity at school," said Joanie.

"Oh, no," Richie moaned. "The nerd who broke his gourd at the Y."

"All Jenny Piccolo wants to know is if you were naked when they brought you into the hospital."

Richie pulled the covers up over his face. "This is terrible."

"Hey, don't worry about it," said Fonzie. "When you get back, all the chicks are gonna want to be your special helper... if you get my drift."

"You think so?" asked Ralph. "I should have told people I got hurt, too..."

"Ralph," Richie protested from under the sheets, "it was a slip at the pool, not a highway pileup."

"I can't believe I missed it," Potsie muttered.

"It wasn't a floor show, either."

"More like a gore show," said Ralph. "Even at the most inappropriate times, I still got it."

"You're not gonna have it much longer if you can't learn to be a little more sensitive," Fonzie warned.

"Sorry."

"Listen, you guys gonna be around a while? I need to go home and shower and get a change of clothes..."

"Did you stay here overnight, Fonz?" Potsie marveled.

"So, what?"

"How did you keep anyone from finding out?" asked Ralph. "Did you hide in the bathroom? Did you dress as a doctor?" His expression turned gleeful. "Did you hide under some chick's covers, you sly dog?"

"Cool it," Fonzie said, snapping his fingers. "The kid's here."

"I'm not a kid," Joanie complained.

"I cleared it with the doctor."

"Wow," said Potsie, "I've never stayed in the hospital when I wasn't sick. Except when I was born and my dad made them put off bringing me home for a week."

"Are you going to be here a while or not?"

"Oh, sure. My dad likes it when I don't come home from school right away."

"I can for a little bit," said Ralph. "Then I'd better go home and start writing my English paper."

"You haven't started yet?" asked Potsie. "It's due on Monday."

"Nope. It's all part of the research. See, I'm writing my paper on procrastination."

"I'll be here a while, too," said Joanie. "While you're home, will you let mom know where I am?"

"You got it, Shortcake." Fonzie pulled on his jacket and stretched. "I need to stop by the garage too, but I'll be back before long, okay, Richie?"

"Okay," Richie answered. "Take your time."

* * *

After showering, getting dressed, telling Marion that Joanie was at the hospital and packing an overnight bag, Fonzie made some important calls. He called the Hooper triplets to postpone their date that night. He called a few other girls to postpone more dates for the next couple of days. Then he made the dreaded trip to Bronko's garage.

As he expected, the work had piled up. Fonzie was head mechanic for a good reason—none of the other mechanics knew cars like he did, and they were much slower with diagnostics and repairs. He sighed, shook his head and went to Van Alden's office.

"Mr. Van Alden, I'm glad you're here today..."

"I have to be here, don't I? With you gone, who else will keep those slackers working?" the millionaire griped.

"Well, I'm gonna set 'em straight for you before I go."

"Go? You're not here to work?"

"I have to go; the family emergency ain't over yet."

"I thought you didn't have any family in the area."

"Well, you thought wrong. There's my cousin Spike, and my grandma Nussbaum... and the Cunninghams."

"Look, I don't have time for this. If you want to associate with spikes and nooses and balms and hams—cunning or otherwise—that's your affair. But the work needs to be done, understand?"

Fonzie swallowed his pride for the sake of time-saving. "Sure, I understand. I'll have this place running smooth again before I leave."

"Good. And don't try to take advantage of my paying you a salary. Those guys are paid by the hour, and if they drag out the work, I'll take it out of your paycheck, is that clear?"

That didn't seem quite fair, but Fonzie managed to keep his attack impulse in check. "Clear as a Cadillac's windshield." He left the office before Van Alden could tick him off any more.

Coming back into the work area, Fonzie snapped his fingers. "Okay, guys, give me the run-down."

"The Ford here's got an oil leak," said Bill, the older of the two other mechanics. "Can't find where it's coming from."

"Yeah, and this Chevy won't start," said Mike, who had been with Bronko's only a few months.

"Okay. Mike, get over there and help Bill find the oil leak. I'll figure out why the Chevy won't start."

The others got back to work, and Fonzie climbed into the Chevy to try the ignition. The car didn't make a sound. "It's the starter or the battery," Fonzie declared.

"The owner said the battery's just a month old," Mike called over from under the hood of the Ford.

"Okay, so it's the starter. What's so hard about that?" Fonzie climbed out and took a look at the engine. "Everything's in place, so that means we need a new starter. Call the owner and give him a figure. Move over, Bill." He nudged a creeper over to the Ford and got down to slide under the engine.

"You can see where it's dripping down," Bill said, "but that's not where the leak is."

"Oh yeah, I see. Give me some light, will ya?" Fonzie crept up next to the pan Bill had set under the dripping oil. "Okay, let's top off the reservoir." He slid back out from under the car and supervised Bill's work. "Now hop in and start her up."

When Bill started the car, Fonzie observed a tiny stream of oil spurting down from the underside of the oil line, near the top. "Okay, I got it," he said, waving his hand for Bill to cut the engine. "It's the oil line. We can patch it or replace it. Tell the owner patching is cheaper but replacing is better in the long run. Next!"

In less than an hour, Fonzie had diagnosed eight problems and instructed the others on how to fix them. "That oughtta keep you busy the next day or two. If you need anything call the Cunninghams and they'll get me a message."

"Thanks, Fonzie," said Mike. "You're the best."

"Yeah, I know."

"Hope your brother's better soon," said Bill.

"Oh, he um... he's... thanks. Me, too."

* * *

Fonzie got back to the hospital after supper. The other Cunninghams were there, and Richie was feeling all right, considering the circumstances. He tried to put on a good show for his mother in particular, because he knew what a worrier she was; and when Marion worried, Howard got irritable and snapped at her.

"We should probably get home now, Marion," Howard said. "I don't think Joanie's getting much homework done."

"It's not a school night," Joanie protested.

"No, but you wanted to go to Jenny's tomorrow, didn't you?" said Marion. "Something tells me you won't get much done tomorrow, so you need a good start tonight. I'll come back first thing in the morning, Richard."

"Don't worry, mom," said Richie. "They're taking good care of me here. They're gonna let me eat eggs for breakfast tomorrow, too. If I do all right with that, I'll work up to mashed potatoes at lunch. Solid food, here I come!"

Howard smiled and patted Richie's shoulder. "I'm glad you're keeping your spirits up. We'll be back tomorrow."

"Okay, dad."

"I'll take good care of him," Fonzie put in.

"Arthur, are you staying at the hospital again tonight?" Marion asked.

"I didn't pack that overnight bag full of get well cards."

"I don't think the staff is going to like you taking up that bed," Howard said doubtfully. "You might have outstayed your welcome."

Fonzie was unconcerned. "I got permission last night, I'll get it again tonight. Don't worry about a thing, Mr. C."

Richie kept a smile on his face until he heard the door close. "Everybody out, Fonz?"

"Yep."

"Okay." He shifted position and tried to relax. "Thanks for coming back."

"No problemo. Listen, I should go see Doc Bates now so no one comes to yell at me later."

"Yeah, that's a good idea."

"You need anything while I'm at it?"

"No. Just hurry back, okay?"

"You got it."

Richie closed his eyes and listened to the hospital sounds echoing down the hall. _I'm already really sick of this sterile smell and the creepy sounds... Sight or no sight, I hope I can go home soon._

* * *

Fonzie found Doctor Bates studying some x-rays. "Hey, doc, you busy?"

Bates looked up. "Oh, Arthur wasn't it?"

"You can call me Fonzie. The Fonz. Whichever."

"All right, Fonzie. What can I do for you?"

"Well, I brought my stuff over tonight 'cause I was planning on sackin' out in Richie's room again tonight. Wanted to make sure that's okay."

The x-ray display flickered and Bates glanced at it distractedly. "I wouldn't mind, but there's always the possibility we'll need the space. And it's sort of against protocol to let you stay, you know."

"I understand that, and I don't want to crowd out anyone who needs medical attention, but if you need the bed, I can vamoose at a moment's notice, you know?"

"I'm sure you could... there is one other thing, though. Richie needs to build his confidence. He's going to need it if his sight doesn't come back, and if you baby him, you'll just make it harder for him."

Fonzie scoffed. "The Fonz does not baby his pals. I just wanna be there for him. Let him know someone's in his corner, that's all."

"Familial support is important. But—"

The display flickered off.

"Oh, blast it. This back light has been acting up for the last few days. This equipment is sure expensive enough that it ought to work right."

Fonzie rubbed his chin. "Well, I'm no electrician... but if I can fix that back light, will you let me stay in Richie's room?"

Bates folded his arms and smiled indulgently. "Determined, aren't you? All right, take a shot."

Fonzie stepped up to the display and ran his fingers over it. Then, with a silent prayer, he gently bumped his fist against it. The back light came on immediately and stayed steady.

"That's amazing," Bates laughed. "I've tried hitting it before, but it never worked more than a few minutes. If it's still working by the time visiting hours are over, you can stay."

"Thanks, doc. You're a sport."

* * *

When Fonzie got back with the good news that he had permission to stay, Richie was glad, but he couldn't quite get a convincing smile up. "That's great."

"Hey. Something bothering you?"

"Something bothering me? Well, yeah, Fonz—I'm blind." He tried to keep the sharpness out of his voice, but he wasn't as in-control as he'd thought.

Fonzie moved to the bedside and put his hand over Richie's.

"I'm sorry, Fonz," Richie said quickly.

"No, I kinda been expecting this. You were so cheerful when your family was here... time for the roller coaster to come back down, you know?"

"Yeah... something like that." Richie slowly closed his fingers around Fonzie's.

Fonzie sat on the bed. "Okay, so go ahead and say what's on your mind. Let out all this... whatever that you've been holding in all day."

Richie closed his eyes again. At least that way the darkness felt natural. "Fonzie... I want to be a journalist."

"Yeah, you've said that for a while now."

"A journalist needs to be able to see people to write good descriptions. And he needs to be able to see his pencil and paper to take notes. That's gone now."

"Hey, wait a second. You may not be able to see to take notes, but I've seen you with your little typewriter. You don't even look at the keys when you type. You don't need to see to do that."

"But I'd have to rely on other people to help me with that other stuff... I'll never be independent again. I used to think the toughest part about becoming a journalist would be getting someone to print what I wrote. Everything just got ten times as complicated." As he spoke, the reality of his nagging fears seemed to close in on Richie even worse than the heavy darkness. Tears were stinging his eyes again, and this time he didn't think he could stop them. He put up his free hand to wipe his eyes. "I'm sorry... I know this is really uncool. But I can't help it. It's all gone. I'm never going to get there now."

"All right, hold it. First of all, you got nothing to be sorry about. It may not be cool to let life get you down, but having enough trust to break down in front of the Fonz—that's cool."

It sounded like he meant it. Richie sniffled and tried to pull himself together.

"Second of all, your dream is not 'gone.' You're going to do the extra work, you're going to have that career you've always wanted, because I'm gonna see to that myself. If I have to proofread everything you type, if I have to take notes for you, if I have to assist with your fancy descriptions—I'll find the time or delegate the tasks, because if it's that important to you, it's important to me, bucko."

Now there was a growing lump in Richie's throat. He wanted to say something, but he couldn't even if he could find the words.

"And third, I have every faith that you're going to get your sight back eventually."

"Really?" Richie choked out.

"Really. Me an' the Man Upstairs... we have kind of an understanding, you know. I'm kind of his favorite."

Richie bit back a laugh. He figured if anyone but Fonzie said something like that, they'd get struck by lightning. _Maybe he IS God's favorite... _"Do you and 'the Man Upstairs' have an understanding about me?"

"Well, I haven't laid out the terms yet..."

"No time like the present."

"Yeah... I'll work that out when you're asleep."

Richie sighed. No one had ever heard the Fonz pray before. He supposed it had probably happened before, but it was undocumented. The same curiosity that made him a good reporter also made him want to hear Fonzie "lay out terms" with his maker. "Just promise me one thing, Fonzie."

"Sure."

"Promise you'll stick by me? 'Cause this is going to be really hard. Really, _really_ hard. I need to know you'll be there, to tell me what I need to hear. Even if I'm not ready for it."

"I'll be here," Fonzie promised, giving Richie's hand a squeeze. "And I'll tell you what you need to hear, whether you're ready or not."

A fresh tear slid down Richie's face, but he didn't wipe it away. "Can you tell me something I need to hear right now?"

"C'mere."

Next thing he knew, Fonzie's fingers were worming under his shoulders and Richie felt himself being tugged into a very gentle hug. _The Fonz is hugging me. I'm a legend in my own time. ...And if I tell anyone, he'll make me mute as well as blind._

"I'm not gonna let go of you until you're okay again."

All the tension seemed to leave Richie at once. Fonzie did know exactly what he needed to hear, before he knew it himself. He wrapped his arms around around his friend and buried his face in Fonzie's neck. In spite of being a garage-working, motorcycle-riding, leather jacket-wearing greaser, Fonzie smelled amazing. Richie made a mental note to ask what cologne he used.

"Fonzie, can I tell you something?"

"No."

"No?"

"I know what you're gonna say. You don't have to say it. In fact, you better not say it. Because I have never—ever—pounded a guy in a hospital bed before. I don't wanna start now."

Richie smiled and gave Fonzie a final squeeze. "I'm okay now."

Fonzie set him down carefully and gave him the gentle fake punch to the chin. "That's my boy."

* * *

_Thanks for reading! Hope no one choked on the fluff.  
_


	6. Keeping Quiet

_First taste of lemon-lime in this chapter—reader be warned. I decided to up the rating to M now, because of this chapter, just to be safe.  
_

* * *

**Keeping Quiet**

* * *

Once Richie's breathing fell into a long, regular rhythm, Fonzie got up and went to stand at the foot of his friend's bed. He directed his gaze toward the top of the windows and cleared his throat.

"Excuse me, Sir. It's been a while... I know you like me, cause you made me so cool, but you may not be thrilled with some of the things I've been using it for... so, I'm just gonna get to the point. My friend Richie's a good kid. He can't see now, and it's got him pretty scared. Now, I know you've made blind people see before, even people who were born that way, so clearing this up oughtta be a cinch, right? I told him he's gonna get better, so... I'd appreciate you backing that up. Thanks for your time."

He went back to his bed and fell asleep quickly. He slept until a nurse came in to check on Richie the next morning.

"Hi," Fonzie said quietly, propping himself up on one elbow.

"Morning," the nurse whispered back.

"How is he?"

"About the same, I guess. Can't tell much when he's asleep. Do you think he'll wake up soon? They're starting to serve breakfast."

"Oh, I'll give a buzz when he's ready. In the meantime, how about you and I get better acquainted? I don't think I've met you yet."

"I'm Sarah Jane. You must be 'the Fonz.'"

Fonzie grinned. "My reputation precedes me."

"All the girls are talking about you. No offense, but I don't know what's so amazing about you."

"Ay, that's 'cause all you can see is from the shoulders up." Fonzie pushed back his blankets and sat up. "Come over here and form a new opinion."

Sarah Jane eyed him as if he were a coiled snake. "I don't really have time..."

"You've got a couple of minutes and you're wasting them talking." Fonzie snapped his fingers. "C'mere."

The nurse came around Richie's bed slowly, looking like she didn't know whether to be amused or annoyed.

Fonzie held out his hand as if he wanted to shake, and she took the bait. Instead of shaking her hand, Fonzie pulled her close to the bed. "Sarah Jane, what made you decide to become a nurse?"

As she began thinking about the question, Fonzie lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it slowly.

"I always thought I would, since I was a little girl." She didn't pull away.

"And now that you're all grown up, do you like it?" He moved on to kissing her wrist.

"Yes... but it is different from what I thought it would be."

He rolled her sleeve back and kissed his way up her forearm. "Do you ever wish... you'd tried something different?"

"Well... I'm wondering now if I should have gone out of this room instead of walking over to you."

Fonzie smiled at her. "Hold that thought," he said, smoothly leaning up to kiss her mouth.

She melted into his arms.

"There we go." He kissed her again.

"Fonzie," she gasped, "if I'm not out on my rounds soon, someone will come looking for me."

"How soon?"

"Well... a few minutes. Five... maybe ten."

"Oh, gorgeous, we can do a _lot_ in ten minutes."

She looked like she wanted to protest, but instead, she scooted onto the bed beside Fonzie.

"I'm sure you usually like to get to know a guy on the first date," Fonzie said, reaching up to unfasten the collar of her apron, "but being as we're pressed for time, I figure we better condense things a little."

She was breathing hard—she looked a little uncertain.

"You all right?"

"I... I think so." She blushed. "I don't usually..."

"You don't usually allow this sort of thing. I know. It's okay." Fonzie let the top of her apron fall forward and leaned in to kiss her warm neck.

Sarah Jane gasped quietly. "What if he wakes up?" she asked, nodding toward Richie.

Fonzie shrugged. "He's blind. He won't see anything." He began unbuttoning her blouse.

"Fonzie..."

"Yeah?"

"I can't get into any trouble. My life would be over. My career. My parents would never forgive me."

"I'm not gonna get you in trouble, I promise. And don't worry about doctor-patient relationship stuff, because I ain't a patient." He slid her blouse down around her waist and worked his lips over her collarbone. Then he continued his way down, moving his hands over her shoulders. When he got a real moan out of her, he lifted his head. "How we doing for time?"

"O-okay..."

"Good."

He reached behind her and expertly unfastened her brazier with one hand. He smothered her in a kiss to cut down on noise as his free hand wandered over her breasts. He felt her squirming, but years of experience told him that it was an assault-of-bliss squirm, not a please-stop-now squirm.

When he pulled back to peel off his pajama shirt, she didn't try to speak; just panted a little and then came back to him of her own accord. He put an arm around her, bringing their chests together, and moved his other hand down to her knee... then back up her leg under her skirt.

She moved farther onto the bed and Fonzie let her push him back down. He kept his hand on her thigh, stealthily making progress upward while she kissed him passionately. When he ran out of leg, he put his hand gently over her crotch and left it there, gauging her reaction.

Sarah Jane pulled back a little and took a few deep breaths, staring into his brown eyes with her blue ones.

"Sarah Jane, you have the most beautiful eyes."

She laughed, a tension-release giggle.

"You okay?"

She sobered a little and nodded. "Yeah."

"Okay." Smiling sweetly, he resumed kissing her, giving a little tongue. At the same time, his wandering hand made its way to her waistband and began skillfully tugging her underwear down.

She didn't move to help him, but she didn't move to stop him either, and that was all the permission Fonzie needed. Once he had enough room to work with, he slid his hand down her pelvis and put his fingers to work. He had to pause several times because he was afraid her moaning would wake Richie.

"Fonzie," she gasped after about a minute of this torturous starting and pausing, "don't stop."

He rolled them over and yanked his drawstring loose. A little quick positioning later, his fingers were back in motion, his mouth dampening her moans, his groin pressed against her leg. They rocked back and forth together, and there came a moment when neither of them cared if someone walked in on them. Every bit of him was focused on her, and he took great satisfaction when she came before he did... with a stifled yelp that he hoped no one outside the room had heard. His climax came soon after, and as he recovered, he laid kisses on her neck and chest. He felt her hands running through his hair—fortunately he hadn't combed it yet that day.

"Oh, Fonzie," she panted.

"You liked that, didn't you?" Fonzie said with false modesty.

"It was incredible."

"Yeah," he agreed, without any shred of modesty. "No trouble, as promised."

"Oh, my gosh... I need to get out of here."

"Hang on, don't panic." Fonzie picked up his discarded shirt, lifted Sarah Jane's skirt and respectfully cleaned her up. "There you go; now get dressed, take a quick freshen-up in the powder room, and you're all set."

"Okay." Sarah Jane pulled her brazier back into place and let Fonzie fasten it for her. Then she buttoned up her blouse, fastened her apron and retrieved her cap from the floor.

By this time, Fonzie had gotten himself dressed in fresh clothes from his overnight bag.

Sarah Jane gave him one last kiss. "Is this why they're all talking about you?" she asked, looking like she wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer.

"Sweetheart, none of them has gotten this far."

She smiled.

"Yet."

She laughed and hurried toward the door. "Don't forget to buzz the station when your friend's ready for breakfast."

"Will do."

"Bye." She blew him a kiss.

Fonzie's hand flew up automatically and he snatched the kiss out of the air. Then she was gone. He sat back and breathed a deep sigh of contentment. Then Richie spoke.

"Fonzie?"

Fonzie looked over at his friend apprehensively. "Yeah?"

"Is she gone?"

He hesitated again. "...Yeah."

"Good. That was the longest thing I've ever had to sit through."

"Long! that was ten minutes at the most. More like eight and a half. Were you awake the whole time? Why didn't you say something?"

"No, I woke up in the middle... it took me a while to figure out what was going on, and then... well, it seemed like a really bad idea to interrupt."

Fonzie got up, went to sit on the edge of Richie's bed and gathered a fistful of his friend's hospital gown. "Now listen, Red. You tell a soul about what you heard here, and they'll be your last words, understand?"

"Fonzie, I don't listen to you kiss, and tell. Besides, you think I'd want to tell someone about the most awkward experience of my life?"

"Well..." Fonzie let the cotton fabric slide through his fingers. "Maybe not. Must have been pretty..."

"Yeah."

"But, maybe educational, too."

"Eh."

"I mean, could you tell by listening...?"

"Not really."

"I see."

Silence reigned awkwardly for about ten seconds. Then Richie asked, "So, was that a home run, or...?"

"Somewhere between third and home."

Richie nodded. "Oh. Okay."

Another silence. Then, "What's between third and home?"

"Never mind, you've learned enough for one day," Fonzie snapped. He stood up and went to pack his pajamas away.

"Hey, Fonz?"

"Yeah?"

"The windows are over there, right?"

Fonzie looked back to see Richie pointing, arm outstretched. "That general direction, yeah."

"Are there blinds? Could you close them?"

Fonzie raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think they're open?" he asked.

"Are they open?"

"Yeah."

"Could you close them?"

"Sure." Fonzie obligingly closed the blinds of both windows.

"Okay, now could you open them?"

"What am I, Bill Cullen?" Fonzie demanded.

"Please?"

"Fine." He opened the blinds again. "Our next showcase displays a beautiful Milwaukee morning."

Richie smiled at him. "I can tell where the light's coming from."

"Well, of course, it's coming from the sun. Any fool can see that." Suddenly, Fonzie realized what this meant. "Wait, you can see the light?"

"Sort of... there's kind of this... lighter darkness in that direction. Still can't make out any shape, though. The windows could be shaped like horseshoes, for all I can see."

"But it's a start," Fonzie said excitedly. "Boy, your folks will be really happy to hear this, huh?"

"Let's not tell them yet."

"Why not?"

"Well... what if it's just a fluke? What if it gets worse again? Or what if this is as good as it gets? I'd rather not get their hopes up. Wait and see if it gets any better. You won't tell them, will you?"

"No... that makes sense. I won't tell them."

"Thanks. Oh, and you can uh... buzz the nurse's station now. I'm ready to eat."

"Next time, at least cough or something," Fonzie griped. "Signal to me somehow. Geez."

* * *

After breakfast, the family came back to see Richie again and Fonzie went to the garage to check on his underlings. Howard left to open the hardware store, and Joanie went to visit Jenny Piccolo. After lunch, a few school friends and acquaintances including Ralph and Potsie stopped by. Then Fonzie came back, and Marion declared that she should go home to make dinner for Howard.

As Fonzie walked her to the door, Richie heard his mother tell him, "You've been such a help, Arthur. Richie seems in good spirits, and I know he's in good hands with you."

"No trouble, Mrs. C. You know I'd do anything for you."

"Well, if there's anything I can do to repay you, just say so. Would you like me to take your dirty clothes home and wash them?"

"Uh... no, I think I'll do 'em myself this time, but thanks anyway."

Richie snorted and covered it in a cough.

"Oh, I should leave so he can rest, poor dear," Marion said. "Thanks again, and call if you need anything."

The door closed, and Richie heard Fonzie step back over to his bed.

"Not helpful, Red."

"Sorry. I couldn't help it."

"Mhm. Anything interesting happen while I was gone?"

"Not really. The doctor said I was doing as well as could be expected... he thinks I can go home sometime next week. But I'll have to take it easy and be really careful of my head. And if my vision comes back, absolutely no sports."

"Sounds like a smart plan."

"Ralph and Potsie are cataloging my school assignments so I can catch up when I get home."

"That's nice of them."

"Yeah. Of course, someone will have to read them to me, and help me out with them... but I'll figure something out."

"You sound a lot more positive than yesterday," Fonzie observed, taking up his place on the edge of Richie's bed.

"Well, I had a talk with a good friend of mine, and he kind of set me straight on some things," Richie said, smiling a little.

"Must be a wise friend."

"He has his moments."

"He must care about you a lot."

"Yeah, I think he does. It means a lot to me."

"That's enough," Fonzie declared. "Let's not let the convo turn to mush, all right?"

"No... we wouldn't want that."

"That's right."

Richie felt the Fonz's fist nudge his chin again. It was kind of a weird way to show affection, but he'd learned to appreciate it over the last few years. He smiled in the direction Fonzie's voice had come from. "Sure hope I can see you again, Fonz. I miss seeing you."

"You trying to make me all misty here?" Fonzie's voice was slightly higher pitched than normal.

"Sorry."

* * *

_All for now. No one has reviewed since chapter one... I'm wondering how the story's going over. Kind of hard to tell.  
_


	7. Homework

_Warning: you might learn some high-school level facts in this chapter. (Nerds celebrate, others bear with me.)_

* * *

**Homework**

* * *

"You're coming up the steps," Joanie's energetic voice said. "You're at the door."

"Watch your head, dear," said Marion.

"Marion," said Howard, who had Richie by the left arm, "he didn't get taller in the hospital. He's not in danger of hitting his head in the doorway."

"Well, the doctor said we need to be extra careful."

"Mrs. C, everything's going to be fine," said Fonzie, who had Richie's right arm. "Quit your worrying."

It was Wednesday afternoon, and in spite of the awkward transit and waiting homework, Richie was glad to be going home at last. He paid more attention to Howard's and Fonzie's silent direction than to Joanie's or Marion's comments, but he tried to seem like he was listening anyway.

"Okay, here we are in the living room," Howard announced. "Do you want to sit in here for a while, or go up to your room?"

"My room. I want to see if I can find it on my own."

"Oh, Howard, don't let him," Marion said, full of concern. "What if he trips on something and hurts his head again?"

"I'll be fine, mom."

"How about this," said Fonzie. "I'll shadow him up there and make sure nothing happens to him."

"Yes, of course, Arthur. That's a good idea."

So, Richie struck out on his own, holding his hands out in front of him and hoping he didn't look too silly. He was glad Fonzie didn't offer him too much help; he only warned him when he nearly ran into the wall, and when he was about to run into the stairs. Once he was at the stairs, getting up them was fairly easy. His legs seemed to remember the pattern better than his eyes would. Then he made a slight turn and felt along the wall until he came to his door.

"My room?" he asked, to make sure he'd gotten it right.

"That's it," Fonzie answered.

"Great, thanks. You want to come in?"

"Sure."

Richie slowly led the way into his room and walked over to his bed. "Wish I could read," he said, finding his pillows and propping them against his headboard before climbing onto the bed.

"If this lasts very long, we'll get you some braille lessons," Fonzie suggested.

"Maybe. And then I could write an article about it."

"Great idea. Great idea."

"But for now... would you put on a record for me?"

"Sure. What do you want?"

"I don't care. I just want to hear familiar stuff."

"Okay."

Richie waited while Fonzie selected a record, and soon the voice of Elvis filled the room. "Turn it down just a little? Thanks, that's good."

"Do you want me to stay a while?"

"You don't have to. You've done so much for me in the last week... taking time off and putting your dating on hold..."

"Are you kiddin'? It was a good investment. Do you know how many phone numbers I got out of that hospital stay? Whoa. I got about a dozen nurses, three patients and a pediatrician. I am set."

Richie smiled. "Well, that's a load off my mind. Listen, I think I'm going to just rest until dinner, but after that maybe I'll try to tackle a homework assignment. Would you be free to help me out?"

"Tot-amundo."

"Great. See you at dinner, then."

"Well, I'll see _you."_ Fonzie laughed. "Take it easy, Red."

Richie leaned back and closed his eyes. Then he opened them and looked toward the faint, less-black area where his windows were. He sighed. "I know I _can_ do this," he said quietly, "but I really want to see again. I want to see my dad and mom and Joanie. And my friends, and Arnold's, and I want to drive again, and..." he knew he was going to cry again, but now that he had privacy, he didn't hold back. "Please, God. Let me see again."

* * *

"Richie, eat your Brussels sprouts, dear."

"Oh, were there Brussels sprouts?" Richie asked innocently. "You know, I can't see, so I didn't realize..."

"You managed to eat everything else on your plate," Joanie pointed out.

"Don't help me, sis," Richie retorted.

Fonzie grinned. _I love middle class family banter._

Richie resignedly picked up his fork again and found the Brussels sprouts on his plate with suspiciously little trouble. "Okay, I ate my sprouts. May I be excused?"

"Without dessert?" asked Marion. "I made molasses cookies."

"Molasses cookies," Fonzie repeated. "Whoa. Mrs. C, is there no end to your gifts?"

"Oh, Arthur, you're so sweet."

Howard rolled his eyes.

"Could I take some up to my room?" Richie asked.

"Milk in your room? I don't know, Richard. Supposing you spill on the carpet? Sour milk smell is so hard to get out..."

"Marion, he's not a child anymore," Howard pointed out.

"I'm gonna be helping the kid with some homework anyway," said Fonzie. "I can double as milk guardian while I'm at it." He laughed his deep, stuttering laugh.

Richie snickered. "How about it, mom?"

Marion gave in. "All right. Let Fonzie carry the glasses. And keep the cookies on napkins."

"Okay."

"And take some coasters up with you."

"Just give me a tray," said Fonzie. "I'll be the butler."

"Butler, huh?" Richie asked, grinning a little too big for Fonzie's liking.

"That was a joke, Cunningham. Keep it to yourself."

"Right... right."

Fonzie followed Richie up the stairs, carrying two glasses of milk, two coasters, a plate of cookies and several napkins. he laid the dessert out on Richie's nightstand and picked up a book off the pile at the foot of Richie's bed.

"Okay, we got literature... where'd you leave off?"

"We were reading _The Deerslayer_," Richie answered, making himself comfortable on his bed.

"Not cool."

"Oh, come on, Fonzie... I think this book's right up your alley. The young hero, Natty Bumppo—"

Fonzie laughed. "Natty who?"

Richie rolled his sightless eyes. "Bumppo. Listen. He's a young pioneer, and he's the only one in settled America who doesn't agree with the 'scalp first, ask questions later' idea toward the Indians."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. And there's lots of damsels in distress, and rescuing comrades, and tracking and standing up for justice..."

Fonzie sat on the bed, flipping the pages of the literature book. "All right, all right. We'll give it a try. Just to see if I can dig it, you know."

Richie moved over to give him room. "Start on chapter four."

Fonzie kicked his boots off and leaned back next to Richie, putting his knees up to rest the book against. The long, rambling style of the 1800's was difficult for Fonzie to get his mind around, let alone his mouth to read aloud, but as he soldiered on, he found himself intrigued by the struggle of the characters to traverse the wilderness, hiding from marauding Indians. By the time they were nearing the end of the chapter, he was reading with excitement, eager to see what happened next. Finally, he reached the end and took a gulp of his now room-temperature milk. "Whoa."

"Did you like it, Fonz? It was pretty good, don't you think?"

"I tell you, I had my doubts... but that chick, what's her name, Judith? What a woman, huh? She's got guts."

"Yeah, she's one of my favorite characters."

"How much of this book do you have to read?"

"A chapter for each day of school I missed. So... I should have read four... five to be caught up for tomorrow."

"So we get to read four more? I mean... I have to read you four more? Look how much we read." Fonzie took Richie's hand and separated out the pages that made up chapter four so Richie could feel how thick it was.

"You don't have to... I could get mom or dad to read it to me."

"Are you nuts? You can't read without me. I don't wanna miss anything."

Richie grinned and finished his last cookie. "Well, read more if you feel like it." He scooted down a little so he wasn't sitting up anymore and laid his head on the pillow, his forehead resting against Fonzie's arm.

"All right," Fonzie said, "but don't you fall asleep. I'm not summarizing for you."

After the next chapter, Richie stretched and yawned. "I guess I'd better work on another subject... I can't go back to school only caught up in literature and behind in everything else."

"But Richie... we gotta find out what happens with those chicks! Judith's old man's trying to pawn her off on his wacko pal, and all the time she's falling for the Deerslayer. An' not only that, her sister's in love with the whacko pal! What do you call a love triangle with four people?"

"Uh... a love square?" Richie suggested.

"Exactamudo. The provincial simpleton, the less desirable but sweet daughter, her hot sister and the young hero. A very tense love square."

"Speaking of shapes, Fonz... I should work on geometry."

Fonzie sighed. "Okay. But more _Deerslayer_ tomorrow?"

"Sure."

"Don't you read ahead without me. What am I saying? You can't see." Fonzie bookmarked the place and dropped the literature book on the floor. "Geometry... where are you in this one? Oh, there's a bookmark. Transversals? What the heck's a transversal?"

"That's what I'm supposed to learn."

"Oh, right. Right. Okay. So, here they've got a little diagram. Line A is parallel to line B." Fonzie took Richie's hand and used his index finger to trace the lines on the page. "This is line A. This is line B. And there's another line going across 'em here at an angle, like this. Got that?"

"I think so."

"All right. The book says line C, the one crossing A and B, is a transversal."

"Okay. So now we know what a transversal is. Aren't you sorry you dropped out of school?"

Fonzie scowled. "That's beside the point, Cunningham. Focus. The transversal creates congruent angles. Whoa."

"Congruent angles. What's that mean?"

"Well, that means that this angle here," Fonzie traced with Richie's finger again, "is shaped the same as this angle here, because the transversal crosses line A at the same angle as line B, because A and B are parallel." He smiled, proud of himself for being able to follow high school geometry years after dropping out. "So, is that clear so far?"

"Um... I think so. I'm trying to picture it in my mind, and I think I get it. Maybe we should have done this first, before I got sleepy. I can't concentrate on lines and angles when I can't see them."

Fonzie stared at the illustration and rubbed his chin with one finger. "All right, forget geometry for now. I think I know a way to help you with it, so I'll be back for more of that tomorrow. What else do you have to do?"

"You really think I can learn geometry blind?"

"Yes, I do. Answer my question."

"Uh... well, there's history and biology and English... what time is it?"

Fonzie glanced at Richie's clock and gasped. "It's almost ten. Whoa, the time just flew by. You need your sleep. I'll just pack up these books for you and get going. I'll come back for lunch tomorrow and then we can work on your geometry. How's that?"

"Um... fine."

Fonzie huffed. "Okay, what's wrong? I just laid out a great plan, and you're sulking. What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong; I'm not sulking. It's just... I haven't slept without you in the room for almost a week now. It's going to be a little... I don't know. Eerie."

"That is ridicamundo. You're back in your own room, with your own parents and your own sister down the hall. You can find your way to your own bathroom without any help. You got familiar surroundings all over the place. What do you need me for?"

"Well, probably nothing."

"Right."

Richie sighed.

"Don't make that face, Red."

"What face?"

"That face! I can't stay over here. I need real sleep. You think it's easy looking like this all the time?" Fonzie pointed to his face.

"...You realize I can't see you, right?"

"I didn't say you could talk."

"Sorry, Fonz."

"Besides, you don't have a spare bed in here."

The silence stretched out.

"You can talk."

"Oh, thanks. Well, uh... you were sitting here reading with me for hours... I think there's plenty of room for both of us."

Fonzie grabbed Richie by the shirt front. "Are you nutso?! Sorry—watch your head..." He gently settled the redhead back on his pillow. "I can't sleep here, with you, in your own bed. That is _crazy talk._"

"I don't see what the big deal is."

"Yeah, well, that's why you're you and I'm the Fonz." Fonzie gathered up Richie's books and stacked them on the floor. He looked over Richie and his bed. "Crazy talk," he repeated. He sat down again. "Look: since I was six years old, I slept alone or with chicks. It's a pretty good system, and I don't want to throw anything crazy into it now."

"But this is an unusual circumstance—it's like you told them at the garage: this is a family emergency, right? Doesn't your system allow for that?"

"It's unpresidential."

"You mean unprecedented."

"That, too."

"Come on, Fonzie."

"No. No wheedling. I'm gonna tell you something. And I'm only gonna say it once, so pay attention. As I said, I've slept alone or with chicks." Fonzie paused for effect and went on in a strong, forceful tone, "This body only knows one gear when there's someone else in the bed. Will you get that through your thick... _thin_ skull?"

Richie blinked a few times, seeming to let it sink in. "But... you're not gonna forget that it's me."

"I don't wanna find out. Somethin' like this can ruin a man."

"I'm not going to 'ruin' you."

"Well... of course you wouldn't on purpose," Fonzie allowed, not wanting to hurt Richie's feelings. "It's just sometimes I don't know whether I can control all this cool, you know?"

"Can we just try it? If it's too weird, you can sleep on the couch, or go back to your apartment. I won't ask again."

Fonzie considered. _What's to consider? He's making _me_ nutso now. _He looked at Richie's anxious face. _The doc said not to__ baby him. But then, the doc isn't a sucker for those innocent freckles. The kid needs some confidence... leaving might not be the way to help him with that. _"We can try it," he said, lifting a commanding but unseen finger, "IF your parents say it's all right."

"Okay," Richie said, sitting up. "I'll go ask them."

"No, no. I'll do the asking. You just get your teeth brushed. That should keep you busy."

* * *

_To be continued. Thanks for reading; please favorite/follow/review.  
_


	8. The Tutor

_Wow, eight chapters. I post a new one when I see that the last chapter has been viewed by at least five people. That's all I have to go on, because no one is reviewing to tell me if they even like it...  
_

* * *

**The Tutor  
**

* * *

Fonzie knocked quietly on Richie's parents' door. He heard Howard's calm "Come in" and stepped inside.

The Cunningham parents were sitting up in bed in their bathrobes, Marion complete with nightcap. Howard was looking at a trade magazine and Marion was holding a novel.

"Arthur," Marion greeted him. "You're still here."

"Yes, I am, Mrs. C," Fonzie said, coming to stand by the bed. "May I say, that is the cutest little nightcap I have _ever_ seen?"

"What do you want?" Howard asked bluntly.

"Glad you asked, Mr. C. This is Richie's first night home, and he's feelin' kinda, you know, outta place or something. He's had me around all the time at the hospital, and he's not sure he can get to sleep without me there. So, I decided to see if it would be all right to camp out in his room—just for tonight. Help him settle in, you know?"

"Oh, isn't that sweet? Isn't it sweet, Howard?" Marion said enthusiastically.

Howard looked pained. He answered a mechanical, "Yes, it's very sweet, Marion." Then he looked at Fonzie. "It's nice of you to offer, but I think it's time Richie learned to be a little more independent with this. If he stays blind, he's going to need to learn to get along on his own. Besides, you've already done so much for him this past week, keeping him company and helping him with everything. You've really gone above and beyond anything expected of you, and we appreciate it..."

"I hear what you're saying, Mr. C, and I wanna tell you, it has been no trouble. And you may be right, that Rich needs to get used to being on his own. So, if you don't want me to stay the one night, I'll just tell him it's a no go and see him tomorrow."

"One night won't hurt, will it, Howard?"

"Marion."

"But it is his first night home. And Arthur said it's no trouble. Oh, Richie hasn't had a slumber party since he was twelve."

"Marion!"

Fonzie laughed. "I haven't been to a boys' sleepover since I was six! Whoa."

"Oh, now you hear that, Howard? Let him stay."

Howard looked suspiciously at Fonzie. "No _boys' _sleepovers, huh?"

Fonzie made the lip-zipping and key-tossing motions.

"Oh, all right. One night probably won't hurt."

Fonzie was happy that his strategic negotiation had won the discussion, but he wasn't very confident about how the night would go. If he had to leave before it was over, that would be difficult to explain. "Thanks very much," he said.

"Do you want me to get you some blankets and pillows?" Marion asked.

"Don't you move a muscle, Mrs. C, I know where they are. Give Mr. C a nice little kiss to say thanks. It'd be a little awkward coming from me."

Howard assumed the "what will he say next?" expression that Fonzie had become accustomed to seeing often.

As he left the room, Fonzie heard a quiet kiss and then soft voices. "Those adorable middle class lovebirds," he said to himself as he headed to the hall closet for a quilt and pillow. He tossed them over his shoulder and lugged them into Richie's room.

"Fonzie?"

"Yeah, it's me." Fonzie tossed the quilt and pillow onto the bed."You got some toothpaste on your chin." He used the collar of Richie's pajama top to wipe the spot.

"Man, I thought I was careful."

"You'll get the hang of it. And if you miss a spot now and then, I've discovered that toothpaste is very good for the complexion. Now, I'm going to the apartment to brush my teeth and grab some clothes. If you're asleep by the time I get back, I ain't stayin'."

"I'll be awake."

Fonzie had his doubts, but Richie was indeed awake when he got back . He draped his bathrobe over a chair and spread out the quilt on the side of the bed Richie had left for him. He climbed between the quilt and Richie's blankets.

"You're not getting under the covers?" Richie asked.

"It's safer this way," Fonzie declared.

"You're not really worried, are you?"

"Worried? Who's worried? Just... better to be safe." He turned out the lamp.

"Good night, Fonzie. And thanks for staying with me."

"Don't thank me yet."

"It's gonna be fine."

"Go to sleep."

Richie fell silent, and Fonzie waited, knowing he wouldn't be able to sleep as long as his friend was awake. When he heard Richie's breathing even out, he finally relaxed. He leaned over to lay a very light kiss on Richie's forehead. "G'night, kid."

He settled down and closed his eyes. Richie's bed was comfortable and warm. It felt a little weird to be going to sleep next to someone without a romantic interlude, but he found that it wasn't as hard as he'd thought it might be. There was something nice about having Richie so close. Still... best not to do this kind of thing often. One never knew what might cause one to lose one's cool.

* * *

Richie woke up as he had every morning lately—to the confusion and realization of still being blind. But this time, he felt a little safer... he was lying against someone strong and warm. He sighed and nestled his head against Fonzie's shoulder. _I wonder what time it is._

Fonzie stirred and Richie felt an arm slip around his ribcage. _Uh oh... should I wake him up? That could be dangerous. On the other hand, if things get more awkward..._ The sheet and blanket were still between them, so things weren't too awkward as far as Richie was concerned. But what would Fonzie think if he were awake?

"Fonzie?" Richie whispered tentatively.

The arm around Richie's ribs tightened slightly.

_Bad idea, bad idea! _Richie silently scolded himself. _Okay, relax. This isn't so bad. Maybe he'll be annoyed when he wakes up, but it could be worse. I'll just wait and see what happens._

He could hear his family moving around, so it had to be morning. He wasn't sure, but he thought he might smell food, too. Then he heard a knock on the door.

"Richie," Joanie called softly. "You awake?"

Before Richie could decide how to answer, he heard the door open. Great.

"Fonzie?" Joanie asked, voice full of confusion.

"Shh," Richie hissed. "Don't wake him up."

Joanie came quietly over to the bed. "How come Fonzie slept with you last night?"

"Cause he's a good friend, that's why," Richie snapped, still in a whisper.

"He's been sleeping in your room at the hospital, you'd think he'd had enough of you," she said a little snidely. "Anyway, I came in to say goodbye; I'm going to school now. Mom said to tell you breakfast is ready. I'll come home for lunch and see how you're doing, okay?"

"Okay." Richie waited, but he didn't hear Joanie leave.

"Boy, he looks so cuddly when he's asleep," she said after a minute.

"Will you get outta here?"

"I'm goin', I'm goin'."

This time, Richie heard Joanie's retreating footsteps, and then the door closed.

"Fonzie?" When he got no response, Richie prodded Fonzie's wrist and tried again. "Fonz?"

"Hm..." Fonzie's arm slipped a little further around Richie; then he stretched a little and shifted away. "It's morning."

"Yeah."

"I had this dream... someone called me cuddly."

Richie opened his mouth to say, "That was Joanie," but he thought better of it. "Huh," he said instead. "Joanie was in here a minute ago. She said breakfast is ready."

"Okay." Fonzie didn't move.

Richie held his breath. _If he doesn't say something soon, I'll have to think of something else to say... three... two... one..._

"Was I holding onto you?"

_Shoot. How do I answer that?_ "Uh... kinda."

"Kinda how?"

"Like half a hug. It was no big deal."

"You sure that's it?"

"Yeah."

A short silence; then the claim, "I knew it would be fine."

"Uhuh."

"Well, let's get up and get dressed—I don't want to miss breakfast."

"Okay."

Fonzie took his clothes to change in the bathroom so Richie could have his room to himself.

Richie started by finding clean socks and underwear and changing into those. Then he found a pair of jeans in his pants drawer. He remembered this particular pair—the pockets weren't very deep. But since he wasn't going to school, that wouldn't matter much. Remembering his dirty clothes, he gathered them up and put them in his laundry basket. Then he returned to the dresser to find a shirt. It all seemed to take forever, but he knew he would learn to dress more quickly.

He heard the door open and then shut again rapidly.

"Sorry," came Fonzie's voice, "I thought you'd be done by now."

"Oh, I'm almost done. I'm just picking a shirt." Silence. "You can come in, Fonzie."

The door opened again, slowly. "Okay... um... You need any help?"

"Nah." Richie pulled on an undershirt. Then he took a button-down shirt from the next drawer and held it up. "What color is this?"

"Blue."

"Ah, the blue one. Okay. Think I should wear this?"

"Sure, it brings out your eyes."

Richie smiled at Fonzie's politeness in the face of embarrassment. "Okay." He pulled on the shirt and started on the buttons.

"Hold it, Red."

"What?"

"You missed one." Fonzie came over and took the sides of the shirt out of Richie's hands, reworking the buttons.

"That's what I get for being in a hurry."

"You'll do better next time."

"Don't do the top one," Richie said, as Fonzie's hands neared his collar.

"Collar open, check." Fonzie said. He gave Richie's face a pat. "There ya go. Come on."

Richie tucked his shirt in and followed Fonzie into the hall and down the stairs.

"There you boys are," Marion greeted them. "I've got blueberry pancakes for you. They're not hot off the griddle, but I've kept them warm for you."

"That's great, mom," said Richie. "Thanks."

"I'll have to eat and run, Mrs. C," Fonzie said apologetically. "Gotta get to the garage."

"I understand, Arthur. I'll get your thermos ready." Marion went back out to the kitchen.

As he found his place at the table, Richie heard Marion call, "How was your slumber party?"

"Mom," Richie exclaimed.

"Oh, it was fine," Fonzie answered. "We went right to sleep."

"Well, that doesn't sound like much fun," Marion reflected, coming back into the room.

"Is dad gone already?" Richie asked.

"Yes, dear. He left a few minutes ago."

"I am behind schedule," Fonzie muttered. Richie heard his knife and fork scraping his plate. "Eat up, Rich. your stack is buttered and syruped."

Richie smiled a little. "Thanks." He found his fork and poked at the pancakes a little to get oriented before cutting into them.

By the time Richie got the third bite successfully to his mouth, Fonzie was pushing his chair back. "I gotta dash. Thanks for the amazing breakfast, Mrs. C—sorry I couldn't take my time with it."

"That's all right," Marion answered. "Here's your thermos."

Richie heard the little smack that told him Marion had kissed Fonzie on the cheek, and Fonzie's feet shuffling a little on the carpet—as usual, mom's sweetness had melted the tough guy.

"I'll come back for lunch. Later, Red."

"Bye, Fonzie."

* * *

Fonzie set a furious pace at the garage, making up for a lot of lost time. When he got there, one car had been in the garage, waiting its turn for six days. By the time he left, the car that had been there the longest had arrived two days before.

"We'll get all the one- and two-days out tomorrow—only by tomorrow they'll be the two- and three-days," he told Bill and Mike. "So, only the cars that arrived today and tomorrow will be here over the weekend. I'll do a little work then to catch us up some more."

"Van Alden won't pay you extra for working on the weekend," Bill pointed out.

"That's all right. I've missed quite a bit of time this week, so I want to make it up to you guys."

"That's really swell of you, Fonzie," said Mike.

"I know. Now, I gotta get home for lunch. You can use the rest of the day to straighten up the shop and get ready for tomorrow, okay? Don't strain yourselves."

The other mechanics thanked Fonzie and sent him on his way.

Back at the Cunningham's, Joanie had come home for lunch. Richie told them about spending the morning with his mother for a change. Marion had suggested they watch a morning television program together.

"But how did you follow it if you couldn't see?" Joanie asked.

"I have trouble following these things when I _can _see," Richie answered. "Mom always has to explain who's who and what they're doing and why, anyway, so it wasn't much different."

The phone rang and Marion answered it.

"Hello? Oh, hello, dear." She covered the mouthpiece. "It's your father, Richard. He wants to know how you're doing."

"Tell him I'm fine, mom."

"He says he's fine. We're all just sitting down to lunch. All right, we'll see you later. Goodbye." She hung up. "He won't be home for lunch today."

"That's okay. He's missed some business because of the accident, so he should stay and catch up."

"You're such a good son."

Fonzie smiled. _How did I ever keep from going nutso without a nice middle class family to hang around every day?_ he wondered. "Mrs. C, your cooking is superb, as usual."

"Thank you, Arthur."

"Yeah, really good, mom," said Joanie. "I'd better get back to school. I don't want to be late for English. There's a cute foreign exchange student visiting, and I might be able to help him with some vocabulary."

"Whoa," said Fonzie. "What kind of vocabulary we talkin'?"

"Don't worry; nothing Richie's never heard of."

"Okay, I guess that's safe."

"Hey," Richie protested. "Since when am I the yardstick of respectability? I can be... a little risque from time to time." He put on a superior expression.

Fonzie and Joanie burst into giggles.

"Aw, lay off!"

Joanie got up and gave Richie's shoulders a squeeze. "See ya later, Richie."

"Arthur, are you going back to the garage?" Marion asked.

"No, I'm gonna help Richie out with some homework," Fonzie answered. "If he's going back to school, he needs to catch up with the lesson plan. We're hitting geometry, stat."

"That's very sweet of you."

"Yeah. I brought a visual aid with me."

"Fonzie, a visual aid is an aid you can see," said Richie.

"I knew dat. I knew dat. I just mean that this particular aid is because you _can't_ see. A square of plywood, some inch-and-a-half nails and fishing line. Yeah."

Richie looked skeptical. "Okay... I guess we should get started."

"Yup. Need any help with the dishes, Mrs. C?"

"No, you go ahead and help Richie with his schoolwork. Let me know if you need anything."

In Richie's room, Fonzie set his creation in front of Richie on his bed.

"Ta-dah! Your very own plane complete with lines and transversals." He took Richie's hand and guided it over the nails around the edge of the plywood. "These are your anchor points to wrap the line around." He then guided Richie's fingers over the pieces of fishing line he had tied on earlier. "This is line A, this is line B, and this is your transversal. Dig it?"

"This is great, Fonz."

"Okay, now you can feel how your transversal crossing both lines at the same angle creates these congruent angles, right? This angle's the same size and shape as this one here, this one's the same as this one, and so on."

"Yeah, I get it." Richie smiled. "You're a genius, Fonzie."

"True. That is very true. Now, lemme see what else your textbook says..."

Thus, a high school dropout became a geometry tutor. Fonzie attributed it to being very good with his hands.

* * *

_Stay tuned. Better yet, drop a line.  
_


	9. Game Plans

_Enjoy._

* * *

**Game Plans  
**

* * *

Richie traced the fishing line with his fingers. "So this angle here, and... this one here are congruent, alternate exterior angles, and the same with this one... and this one. Right?"

"Correctamundo. I think you've graduated, Cunningham. I've taught you all my skill on transversals and congruent angles. Let's move on to the next thing."

"You think my teacher will let me take tests this way?"

"We'll worry about that when you're caught up." Fonzie flipped the page of Richie's textbook. "What we got? Polygons... reminds me of this chick I used to date. Oh, that was Paula, not Polly. And wait a minute... we're still dating."

Richie grinned. "Okay, I know what a polygon is."

"Tell me."

"It's a closed shape with three or more sides."

"You've read this book before!"

"No... we learned a little about them last year."

"All right then, smarty pants. What's an equilateral polygon? Try saying that ten times fast."

"A polygon with sides of equal length and angles of equal measure."

"Lucky guess."

Fonzie continued to work with Richie, using his board-and-string method when necessary. They got through three geometry lessons. Then Fonzie read a chapter of Richie's history book to him before dinner.

"Joanie's got a date tonight, so she won't be joining us for dinner," Marion told them when Howard and the boys were seated at the table.

"Who's she dating now?" asked Richie.

"Mrs. Johnson's boy, what's his name? Pete, I think."

"Yes, it is Pete," Joanie said, skipping down the stairs.

"Is he a nice guy?" Richie asked her.

"Of course. He's really cute."

"Oh, well if he's cute, I guess he must be nice."

Fonzie snorted. "Come here, Shortcake."

Joanie dutifully went to stand by Fonzie's chair.

"Now, I want you to have a good time, and make sure he _stays _nice, no matter how cute he is, okay?"

"Okay, Fonz."

"That's my girl."

Howard cleared his throat.

"Whatsa matter, Mr. C, you got something in your throat?" Fonzie asked.

Howard looked at the ceiling and shook his head. "You know, I remember back when Joanie was _my_ girl," he muttered.

A knock announced Pete's arrival.

"I'll get it," said Joanie. She gave Howard a kiss on the cheek. "And don't worry, dad. Pete's dad is driving us over to Arnold's. I'll be home by nine."

"You'd better."

Pete didn't stay long, and Richie was glad. He didn't want to try to make conversation with someone he didn't know. _I can't even see what Joanie's date looks like,_ he thought glumly.

"How's the schoolwork coming along, Richard?" Howard asked.

"Oh, pretty good. Fonzie's been a big help with geometry."

"Really?"

"It's not so tough," Fonzie said modestly. "They got all his lessons laid out in the book. I just read it to him and help him get a grasp for what they're saying..."

"He built me a neat plane to plot line segments and shapes on," Richie interrupted. "He's going to make me a chart for line graphing, too."

"That's a great idea," Howard said, obviously impressed. "You can show your teacher that you understand the work without having to read or write."

Marion clapped her hands together. "Oh, Richard, you'll be able to graduate on time."

They hadn't really talked about whether or not Richie would graduate, but he had suspected that his mother was worried about it; this declaration confirmed it.

"Speaking of the chart, Mr. C, I might need another piece of plywood and some more nails..."

"Say no more, Fonzie," Howard answered, "I'll get you some at the hardware store. You're willing to help Richie study—there's no reason you should have any expenses from it."

"Thanks, that'll help."

"Thanks, dad," Richie echoed.

"What will you be working on after supper?" asked Howard.

"Biology," Richie said.

At the same time, Fonzie said, "Literature."

"It seems you haven't discussed it yet."

"You want to work on biology?" Fonzie asked, and Richie could hear the disappointment in his voice. "Don't you want to find out what happens to those people in the boat?"

"Sure, I do... but we haven't done any bio yet... I just think I ought to do a little of everything so I don't forget too much, you know?"

"I guess so. If we read a few pages of biology, can we read more Natty Bumppo?"

"Ah, reading the Leatherstocking Tales?" asked Howard.

"No, _Deerslayer, _but that sounds like a really good story too—is it in a magazine, or what?"

Richie fought to keep from laughing. "Fonzie, the Leatherstocking Tales is what the series is called. _Deerslayer_ is the one that comes first chronologically."

"I knew that. So, there's more? How many books are there?"

"Five," said Howard. "They were some of my favorites when I was in high school."

"Hey, that's neat. Do you get to read them all for class, Rich?"

"No," Richie answered. "Not all of them."

Marion pushed her chair back. "Who's ready for dessert?"

"Mrs. C, I couldn't eat another bite."

"Oh dear, and I made a spice cake just for tonight..."

"Spice cake, huh? Well, maybe after a little studying with the kid I can fit some in."

"I'll wait, too," Richie decided. "Gotta hit the books. I'll probably be hungry again later."

"All right. It'll be on the cake plate in the kitchen."

* * *

"Your mom is too sweet," Fonzie told Richie as they headed upstairs. "And such a good cook. I always love whatever she makes and then I forget that she usually has a dessert... don't run into the door."

"I won't," Richie said, feeling in front of him for his doorknob.

Fonzie flipped on the light and went to find Richie's biology textbook. "Okay, how much of this do we have to read before we can get back to _Deerslayer_?"

"I don't know. Let's just focus on one thing at a time."

"You do want to keep reading it, don't you?"

Richie shrugged. "Yeah... I do."

"There's something you're not saying. What is it?"

"Nothing."

"In teenage talk, nothing always means something. Spill."

"It's silly..."

"If it's silly, it should be easy to spill."

Richie sighed and lay back on his bed. "Okay. Well... you really liked the two chapters of _Deerslayer _that we read..."

"Yeah."

"And you're really looking forward to reading the rest."

"Sure."

"But only about half the novel is in my literature book."

"Huh. That's weird. But so what?"

"So..."Richie licked his lips and sighed. "When we run out of that, are you still going to want to help me with school?"

"Oh." _He's gotten so insecure now. Get a grip, kid._ "Well, I might. If you still need me then. And when we get to that point, I highly recommend we scare up a copy of that book and keep reading it, because I don't know about you, but I don't want to quit in the middle. Do you?"

"But I'll have other things to read for lit."

"So, we'll get 'em done. _Deerslayer_ can be the after-homework reward, right? And if we run outta that, your dad said there are _four more_ books in that series. Assuming we're not sick of this Cooper guy by then," Fonzie added, referring to the book's author.

Fonzie spied a smile sneaking up on Richie's face.

"So, does that settle that? Ready for biology?"

"Yeah, I'm ready."

"Good. Scoot over. You know, you were right: that _was_ a silly thing to be worried over."

Hours later, Fonzie was in chapter seven of the _Deerslayer,_ and Richie was getting sleepy.

"I think I need a dictionary," Fonzie muttered. "Some of these words Mr. Cooper uses are kinda..."

"Long?" Richie suggested.

"Old-fashioned," Fonzie snapped. "You don't know what all of 'em mean, either. I mean, who knows what 'ascertaining' means?"

"Well, it's assessing... figuring out."

"So, I picked an easy example. You know what I mean."

Fonzie felt Richie inch closer to him... a little too close.

"Cunningham—" He looked down at his friend, who was nestled against him with a content expression.

"Yeah?"

He hesitated. "I think you're getting too sleepy for this. We can pick up tomorrow."

"No," Richie protested, "I'll stay awake. Keep going."

"You need to get into your jammies and get some sleep." Fonzie bookmarked the spot and closed the book.

Richie sighed.

"Quit the sighing. Tomorrow will come soon enough."

"Well, will you stay until I go to sleep?"

"No, I will not stay until you're asleep. I have to get up early to go to the garage tomorrow. Gotta get a lot done so I can come back here for lunch."

"Okay."

"Is that all I get? Okay?"

"I'm sorry, Fonz. I don't try to be ungrateful..."

"Just comes naturally, huh?"

"Guess so."

Fonzie got up and stretched. "Need help finding your pajamas?"

"No, I can handle it. See you tomorrow. Hear you, anyway."

* * *

The next morning, Richie practiced finding his way around the house on his own. When he tired of that, he helped Marion husk corn for lunch.

"We'll have whatever's left for dinner," Marion said, taking a couple of clean ears from Richie and putting them in a pot. "There should be plenty; Joanie's not coming home for lunch."

"I'll shuck two more in case Fonzie's really hungry," said Richie, feeling for the corn in the basket on the kitchen table.

"Well, shucks, Richie, that's nice of you."

Richie laughed, more at his mother's playful mood than at her silly joke.

The phone rang, and Marion hurried across the room to answer. "Hello, Marion Cunningham speaking."

Richie thought he heard a faint "Aaayyy!" from the phone. He smiled a little, wondering why Fonzie would be calling now.

"Oh?" said Marion. "I see. Well, that's all right, dear. Yes, I'll tell him. See you later, then." She hung up.

"That was Fonzie?"

"Yes. He said he had some extra things to get done, and he's not going to make it for lunch."

"Oh." Richie tried to hide his disappointment.

"But he said he'll probably be here around two or two-thirty and he has something to do with you."

"Huh. I wonder what it is."

"He didn't say. Oh, we won't need those extra ears now, will we? We'll save them for dinner. Just you and me today."

"If it's just the two of us, I guess it's a date," Richie teased her.

Marion laughed. "You don't want a date with a lady old enough to be your mother."

"Why not? If she's the nicest lady in town."

* * *

Richie ran out of things to do by two o'clock. He turned on the television and sat in front of it, trying to picture what the people looked like. "Guess I should just listen to the radio," he muttered. "Hey, mom, what time is it?" he called.

Marion, who was doing some ironing on the other side of the room, answered, "It's nine after two, dear. You shouldn't sit so close to the TV..." she caught herself. "Well, I guess if you don't have the volume too loud, it's all right."

Richie sighed. Then he heard the front door open. "Is that you, Fonzie?"

"Yeah, it's me," Fonzie's voice answered.

"Where've you been?"

"I had to make some arrangements for our outing."

"Outing?"

"Yeah, you need some sunshine. Fresh air. I got you your very own helmet so you can ride with me and not worry about your noggin."

"Oh, Arthur," Marion cut in, "I don't know if Richie should ride on your motorcycle... it's awfully dangerous, even when you have a healthy skull and perfect vision."

"I won't go over thirty-five," Fonzie said. Then, when Marion didn't answer, "Thirty miles an hour. No faster. We're gonna go meet up with Ralph and Potsie and have a good time."

Fonzie's voice was moving across the room to where Marion was working, and Richie could picture him giving her puppy eyes.

"Please let him come."

"Well... he will be wearing a helmet..."

"I'll secure it myself and see that he wears it every moment we're on that bike."

"And you won't go over thirty?"

"Word of honor."

"All right then... but make sure you bring him back in time for dinner."

"Of course. We wouldn't miss it."

Richie got up eagerly and then felt around for the couch as the change in altitude disoriented him.

"You all right, Rich?"

"Yeah," Richie answered. "Just stood up too fast. I'm fine."

"You will be careful, won't you?" Marion asked.

"Yes, mom. Don't worry; Fonzie will take care of me."

"You bet I will," Fonzie agreed. He went over to Richie. "Hold out your hands."

Richie obeyed and felt the smooth, hard surface of his new helmet. "Thanks, Fonzie." He put on the helmet and stood still so Fonzie could tighten the strap for him. "What color is it?"

"Pink."

"What?!"

"I'm kidding. It's black."

"Oh, good."

"Okay, come with me." Fonzie put Richie's hand on his arm and they walked to the door together. "Okay, I'm gonna get the door. There ya go; now watch your step. See you later, Mrs. C."

"Goodbye, boys," Marion answered. "Be careful."

Fonzie shut the door behind them and walked Richie over to the garage where his bike was parked. "Okay, here we are. I'll get on first. Now you hop on."

Richie followed his instructions. Sometimes he wished Fonzie wouldn't spell everything out for him, but at the same time, he was glad his friend cared enough to pay attention to the details. "Where are we meeting the guys?"

"It's a surprise. Hang on good and tight." Fonzie started the bike and walked it to the end of the driveway. "Don't drag your feet," he called over the sound of the engine.

Richie moved his feet hesitantly, not sure how to find where to rest them without seeing. Then he felt Fonzie's hand on his ankle, placing his foot in a secure place. Then the other hand on his other ankle. He didn't say anything. Instead, he tightened his grip around Fonzie's waist.

Then they were off. It did feel good to be out in the sunlight and feel the wind on his face. Richie wondered where they were going and what they would do with Ralph and Potsie. Whatever it was, he was sure it would be great.

* * *

_Hm, what's Fonzie planning? ^^ No one has reviewed since chapter one. Any feedback at all?  
_


	10. Y Me?

_Long chapter here. Hope you like it. Let me know with a review.  
_

_If you've read the previous chapters this is small potatoes, but there's a little sexual harassment in this one._

* * *

**Y Me?  
**

* * *

Richie enjoyed the first few minutes of the motorcycle ride in quiet excitement. Not being able to see made it a little scarier in some ways, but less so in others. The excitement finally settled in the pit of his stomach and he relaxed a little. He rested his head on Fonzie's shoulder and readjusted his hold. It didn't seem like long after that before Fonzie cut the engine and they coasted to a stop.

Fonzie steadied Richie as he got off the bike; then he put the kickstand down.

"Where are we?" Richie asked. "Are the guys here yet?"

"I don't see them yet; let's go inside and wait." Fonzie offered Richie his arm.

_Go inside? _Richie wondered. _I thought the whole point was to get fresh air._ He held on to Fonzie's elbow and followed him up a sidewalk; then they paused and went through a door. Sounds and smells started giving Richie clues. He didn't like the way they made him feel. All at once, he realized where they were. "You took me to the Y?"

"Sure."

"But... why?"

"Why the Y? Well, see, I have this principle. If I have a close shave or an accident on my bike, I make it a point to ride over that spot again—you know, make sure I don't start worrying about that spot and avoiding it."

"Not a bad idea... but it's your principle, not mine. Let's go somewhere else."

"I know you're nervous, but I'm gonna be right here with you the whole time."

"I'm not nervous," Richie protested. "I just... don't feel like being here."

"I won't let you disappoint the guys. Potsie even said he'd stay in the shallow end with you the whole time. What a friend, huh?" (Again, they did not know at that point that Potsie could not swim.)

"What? I'm not going in the water. The doctor said absolutely no sports," Richie said firmly.

"You're not going to be racing anyone or playin' water polo," Fonzie said, laughing at his own suggestion. "You're just gonna walk nice and slow to the pool, hang around the shallow end a while, get out, dry off, go home for dinner. It'll be relaxing."

_Relaxing?_ Richie thought anxiously. _Sure, like mussed hair relaxes him._

He could tell when they got into the locker room—there was the drone of male voices and the constant patter of showers in the background.

"Fonzie, I really don't want to do this," Richie said, knowing how pitiful he sounded, but deciding it was worth it.

"You think I wanna do this?" Fonzie countered. "I've never gone swimming someplace that didn't have chicks. Never. I'm doing this for you, and you gotta do it for yourself."

"I can't."

"You can't? Why not?"

"I... I didn't bring a towel."

"Ralph and Potsie are bringing the towels."

"Oh." Richie tried to look relieved. "Well, I guess that's fine, then." He let go of Fonzie's elbow and grabbed his arm higher up. "Don't make me do it."

Fonzie felt like a leather-covered statue. "Cunningham..."

Richie let go of his arm. "Sorry, Fonz. I just..."

"I know you're scared. We're here so you can face your fear and move on."

"I know..."

"Oh, hey, the guys are here."

Richie heard Potsie's voice.

"Hey Fonzie, hey Richie. We brought the extra towels for you guys."

"See," said Fonzie, "I told you. Let's hit the showers."

"I don't know if I can shower in a strange place when I can't see," Richie tried again.

"Don't worry about it. I'll walk you over to the shower, I'll take your clothes and put them in a safe place, and I'll walk you out to the pool. No problem."

"That's right, Rich," said Ralph. "We'll all help."

Seeing there was no way out, Richie let Fonzie lead him to the showers. He handed his clothes out to Fonzie and turned on the water.

A few minutes later, Fonzie called, "You almost done in there, Red? You're gonna get all wrinkled before we get to the pool."

Reluctantly, Richie turned off the water. "Got my towel?"

He felt the towel being pressed into his hand. "There you go."

"Thanks." Richie wrapped the towel around his waist and stepped out of the shower onto the cold, damp floor. Fonzie's arm was there to steady him.

"All right, everyone ready? Let's go." Fonzie led Richie forward slowly, warning him of wet spots on the floor and opening the door for him. "Almost there. We're coming up on the first step."

Richie held onto Fonzie's arm with both hands. He'd never done that before without a leather jacket between them. Fonzie's arm felt smooth and solid.

"It's okay, kid. Just relax."

It was also the first time Fonzie hadn't yelled at him for suddenly clinging.

"Here you go. Step down on the step."

Richie felt in front of him for the first step and gingerly set his foot down in two inches of water.

"That's great. First step's the toughest. Next one will be easier."

"Atta boy, Rich," Ralph said encouragingly.

Richie felt a little embarrassed at all the attention he was getting. He wondered how many strangers were in the pool, and what they thought of the commotion. He took another step and the water was at his ankles. Then he heard the lifeguard blow his whistle.

"Something wrong?" Fonzie asked.

The lifeguard's voice grew louder as he approached. "You guys can't take your towels in the pool."

"We know that. The towels aren't going to touch the water. Malph. Weber."

Richie felt someone's hand on his waist.

"Take another step."

Richie did; the water was at his knees; any further and the towel would get wet.

"Okay, Red. We're gonna take two steps at once. Ready?"

"No."

"Here we go."

Richie felt himself led forward, and at the same time, his towel was yanked away. Then they were on the floor of the shallow end, water up to their waists.

"Neat trick," the lifeguard said dryly.

"Hey, I can't let just anyone see what was under that towel," Fonzie told him. "There are some things a girl should never learn secondhand."

The lifeguard was apparently too flustered to think of a reply for that.

"Hang on a minute. Are you the guy who was on duty when my friend here cracked his head on the edge of the pool?"

"No, that was Gabe."

"Gabe. Thanks."

"Don't do anything, Fonz," Richie warned. "It was my own fault."

"What makes you think I'd _do_ anything?"

Two splashes nearby announced the presence of Ralph and Potsie in the water.

"I'll stand on the edge of the deep end," said Ralph. "I'll warn you if you get close to it."

"Thanks," said Potsie. Then he added, "Isn't that nice of him, Richie?"

"Sure. Real nice," Richie answered glumly.

"Hey, let's play a game."

"We could play Marco Polo," said Ralph. "Whoever's it can't see anyway."

"Richie don't wanna be it all the time," said Fonzie. "Besides, swimming around trying to find us, he could run into a wall. We don't want that."

"I've got an idea," said Potsie.

"Or we could just swim a little, tread water a little..."

"I said I have an idea."

"No one cares, Weber."

"No, this is a good one."

"Give him a chance, Fonzie," said Richie.

The others fell silent.

"Well, I thought we could get one of those inflated balls and pass it around."

"Richie can't see to catch," Fonzie pointed out.

"He doesn't need to see if he knows it's coming. We signal who we're tossing it to. See, each of us will have a sound. When you pass the ball, you make the sound of the person you're passing it to. When you catch it, you make your own sound and then the sound of the next person, see?"

"Hey, that might actually work," said Ralph. "Richie could hear where the ball is coming from... he'd have to remember where everyone is to pass it to other people, but you could do it, couldn't you?"

"I could try it, I guess," Richie said.

"Great. I'll grab a ball."

"Everyone pick a sound," said Potsie. "Mine will be Laaa..." he sang.

"Weber," Fonzie said, "I am not singing. The Fonz don't sing."

"La," Potsie said meekly.

"Why don't we just use our names?" asked Richie.

"Well, we could, but this'll make it more challenging."

"My sound will be ding!" Ralph declared, coming back into the pool.

"Very apt," said Fonzie. "What's your sound, Rich?"

"Uh... bang."

"You're 'bang' and I'm 'whoa.'"

"Okay, I've got the ball," Ralph announced. "Ding! La."

Richie heard Potsie catch the ball. "La. Bang."

Richie put out his hands. The ball bounced off his fingertips and into the water. He felt around for it and picked it up. "Bang. Whoa." He tossed the ball in the direction Fonzie's voice had last come from.

"Whoa. La."

As the game progressed, Richie started to get the hang of catching blind and throwing toward the sound of his friends' voices. The other swimmers started to gather around, watching. After a while, they started asking to join the game.

"This is really catching on," Fonzie observed with satisfaction. "Weber, you had an original idea for once."

"Thanks, Fonz," Potsie answered, not in the least offended.

"What you think, Red? You having fun?"

"Yeah... this is pretty fun," Richie admitted.

"Okay, we've got six; think we can add another sound to the circle?"

The boys around them started yammering in competition, calling things like "I've got one!" and "Can I play?"

Suddenly, Richie felt someone's hand slip over his rump and down his thigh. He gasped and turned around in the water, almost losing his balance.

"Whoa, careful," Fonzie's voice said. "You okay?"

"Uh..."

"What's the matter?"

Richie hesitated. "I... someone touched me."

"They're packed around like sardines—I'm not surprised. It's like that time in the Bible when Jesus was like, 'someone touched me' and his disciples were all, 'dude, there's a million people around...'"

"Fonzie," said Potsie, "let's let Joe play. He wants his sound to be a belch."

"Nooooo," Fonzie dragged the word out. "Let's try to keep some level of maturity, right?" He turned back to Richie. "Hey, you're really bothered by this, huh?"

Richie opened his mouth to answer, but he couldn't think of anything to say.

"All right, conference time. Potsie, Rich and I are gonna sit this one out; you can pick someone to join, but no belches, understand?" Fonzie led Richie to the other side of the shallow end, away from everyone else. "Okay, we got a little space here. What happened?"

Richie's mind raced over what had happened, trying to determine whether it could have been an accident. _No... no way. But why would someone do that?!_ "I... I don't know why... but someone..." Richie could feel a blush coming on.

"Easy, kid. Your face matches your hair. That bad?"

"Pretty bad, Fonz."

"Like someone stole second base on you."

"Kind of... yeah."

Fonzie huffed out a breath and put his arm around Richie's shoulders. "I hate it when this kind of thing happens. It ruins my whole day."

"You've dealt with this kind of thing before?"

"A couple times."

"What happened?"

"Let's just say they didn't play ball again for a long, long time..." Fonzie started to move back toward the group.

"Wait a minute, Fonz. I don't want the other guys to know about this."

"They won't know any details. I'll be discreet. Trust me?"

"Yeah..."

"All right. Come on."

They rejoined the rowdy group of boys and the noise died away.

"Listen up," Fonzie said authoritatively. "I take no pleasure in announcing this, but someone in our group has played a dirty trick on my friend here—a guy who can't even see. Whoever you are, you should not only be _ashamed_ of your childish act, but you should be _scared. _Because I'm gonna find out who did it. And when I find out who it was, I'm gonna find him. And when I find him, I'm gonna make him very, _very_ sorry."

A hush fell over the pool. No one so much as coughed.

"Okay, start up the game again, Malph."

"Ding!" Ralph exclaimed.

The game went on, but Fonzie and Richie didn't join in again.

"When you find him, you're not gonna hurt him, are you?" Richie asked.

"Nah. But he can think so. Come on, let's go hang around in that corner some more."

Richie was glad Fonzie hadn't tried to get him back into the game. He'd lost his enthusiasm for it.

"You know," Fonzie said, as they glided across the pool, "You were doing really well there, going by your hearing and your sense of direction..."

"So, this trick," said a voice from behind them. "What kind of trick was it?"

Fonzie and Richie turned to face the newcomer.

"Eh, what kind isn't important," Fonzie answered. "Whoever did it—they know what they did wrong."

"Any ideas about who it was?"

"Sure. I got a sixth sense about these things."

"What are you going to do to him when you find him?"

"I have a few ideas about that, too. It'll be hard to make up my mind."

Richie wanted to ask some questions too, but he waited, following Fonzie's lead.

"Who's your prime suspect?" the other guy asked.

"What's your name?" asked Fonzie.

There was a pause. Then the other voice said, "You know, maybe this guy didn't mean any harm... you shouldn't be too hard on him."

Fonzie made a sound of frustration. "Cunningham, my fingers don't snap when they're wet." Then he said to the other boy, "Your name."

"Adam Milton," the voice said quietly.

"Adam. Do you know my friend Richie?"

"Sort of... he's in some of my classes at Jefferson."

"You like him?"

"Sure. He's a nice guy."

There was another long silence. Richie wished he could see the others' faces. When Adam spoke again, his voice was low and strained.

"You know, don't you?"

"From the second you came over here," Fonzie replied. "The one who's scardest of being blamed comes along to see how the hunt is going. And the one the scardest is scared 'cause he knows it's him."

As he had been many times before, Richie was impressed with Fonzie's judgment of human behavior.

"So... I guess you're gonna beat me up now."

"What, in the pool? Way too many witnesses. Besides, diving's no fun in red water. You can't see the bottom."

"I didn't mean to do it," Adam said pitifully.

"Oh, right. You were just trying tread water or something..."

"No. I... I guess I did mean to do it. But I didn't mean to hurt anything."

"Come here. Come'_ere!"_

Apparently, Adam came closer, because there wasn't anything further on that subject.

"Now, I just wanna know one thing. Why'd you do it?"

That was what Richie wanted to know, too. He listened intently.

"I... I can't tell you."

"Why not? At this point, I don't think telling us your reason can be any worse than what our imaginations will come up with."

"You'll be mad."

"Like I'll be more mad than I am already," Fonzie said with a snort. "Trust me, it won't make things any worse."

"Well... see, I have this problem. It's kind of hard to explain."

"You don't like girls," Fonzie guessed.

"No! No, I do. But I like you, too. I've always liked you, Fonzie... you're so cool and strong and you know everything about bikes and cars..."

"That's true," Fonzie agreed.

"I had this little dream that I could be friends with you, but you were never really friends with anyone until Cunningham. I got really jealous of him."

"So, it was payback for stealing your dream?"

"No. I'm happy for him, that he gets to be your friend. He's probably a much better friend for you than I would be. But when I saw you here today... I've never seen you at the Y. I was really excited about it. I wanted to hang out with you, swim with you..."

"You wanted to touch me."

"Yeah. But I figured you'd kill me. And... I know it's stupid, but I guess I thought if I couldn't be close to you, the next best thing would be to get close to Richie. I lost my head. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"There ain't nothin' wrong with you. You just let your hero-worship run away with you and momentarily suffered insanity."

"Right." Adam sighed. "I know I can't fix it. Just don't pulverize me too bad, huh?"

"You're right, you can't fix it. But there are a couple things you can do. First, you can apologize to my friend."

After a thick swallow, Adam said, "Cunningham... I'm sorry. I never should have done it. I don't know what else to say."

Richie didn't know what to say either. "Well... thanks for admitting it. Apology accepted."

"Good," said Fonzie. "Now, you know where I work, Milton?"

"Bronko's Garage."

"I forgot I was speaking to an obsessed fan. Yeah, Bronko's. I want you to go there tomorrow morning."

"But it's closed on the weekend."

"Yeah, but I'll be there."

"You going to beat me up there?"

Richie heard knuckles cracking. Then Fonzie's voice again.

"Nah, I'm not gonna beat you up. I'm gonna let you watch me work on cars, we're gonna talk some more, you're gonna see that I'm just an ordinary... well, that I'm _almost_ an ordinary guy, and then when you respect yourself as a worth-while person a little bit, you'll forget all about this whole thing and live a normal, healthy life."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"That's really cool of you, Fonzie."

"That's right. Just one more thing: if you have something you want to say to me, be a man about it. Don't make my friends suffer because you don't got the guts to face me yourself."

"I won't. Not anymore."

"All right."

"Guess I should go..."

"No, we'll go. You stay. If you're the first to leave, everyone will know it was you. Hang around a while and relax."

"Okay."

The three of them made their way back over to the group.

"Another game, Fonzie?" Ralph asked.

"Nah, I told Mrs. C I'd have Richie home for dinner," Fonzie answered. "We'd better get dried off."

"I'll get your towels," Potsie offered.

* * *

A little later, Fonzie and Richie were back at the motorcycle, putting Richie's helmet in place.

"I'm glad you didn't hit him," Richie said.

"Yeah... when he shows up for our chat at the garage tomorrow, he won't be expecting it."

"What?!"

"Kidding, kidding. A chat is just talking. A discussion is hitting."

"Oh. Do you really think this... thing of his will just go away after a while?"

"I don't know. I know I sounded sure, but the truth is... sometimes it goes away; sometimes it doesn't."

"What happens if it doesn't?"

"Then he's in for a rough trip, Red. I'm sorry you had to get in the middle of this. I want you to do your best to forget about it and trust that I'll handle it."

"I'll try. Might take a while." He tipped his face up. "Sure is a bright day."

"Sun feels good, doesn't it?"

"Yeah... I can see the light a lot more outside, too. Still no shapes, though."

"Could we tell your folks about it tonight?"

"I guess. But try not to make a big deal out of it. It hasn't gotten much better in the last week, and I don't want to get their hopes too high."

* * *

_Life's tough, but it's better with Fonzie to get you through it. ^^  
_


	11. The Chat

_Sunday, Monday..._

* * *

**The Chat  
**

* * *

"You took Richard to the Y?" Marion exclaimed, pausing mid-pass of the green beans.

"It was fine, mom," Richie told her. "Fonzie was really careful to make sure I didn't get hurt. We just hung out in the shallow end."

"I'm glad you were so careful, but I wish you'd discussed it with us first," said Howard.

"I understand, Mr. C, and I promise if I take him out again, I'll let you know where we're going. Now... could I have those veggies, Mrs. C?"

"Oh yes, I'm sorry." Marion handed the beans to Fonzie.

Fonzie scooped a generous helping onto his plate. "So, Richie shared a little news with me today," he prompted.

"Yeah," Richie said. "It's not much, but I can kind of see light a little bit now... enough to tell where it's coming from."

"That's wonderful!" Howard exclaimed. "How long were you gonna sit on that news?"

"Yeah, sit on it," Joanie muttered.

Richie elbowed her.

"I just knew you were going to get better," Marion claimed. "You know, you came through your chicken pox the fastest, and..."

"What does chicken pox have to do with this?" Howard demanded.

"Well... you just never know."

"Like I said, it's not very much," Richie repeated. "It really doesn't do me any good, except I can kind of tell when it's daylight and when it's night. That's about it."

"There's no telling with this kind of injury," said Howard. "Maybe your head just needs to recover some more. Time will tell."

"Jenny says there's a blind school in town," said Joanie. "Blind kids go there to learn how to walk with a cane and stuff."

"What does Jenny Piccolo know about something like that for?"

"She used to date a blind guy. She said he really liked her when she told him how pretty she was."

"Lying to a blind man," Fonzie said scornfully. "She oughtta be ashamed."

"Well, she is pretty."

"Fair to middling." Fonzie saw that Richie was smiling. "Richie, you ready for some more schoolwork after dessert?"

"Sure," said Richie.

"That reminds me," said Howard, "I got some plywood and nails for you, Fonzie."

"Great. I'll take 'em to work tomorrow... got a new kid coming in for observation. I can let him put the nails in for me."

"What's that mean?" asked Joanie. "'Coming in for observation.'"

"Means I'm gonna let him watch me work."

"Boy, I know girls who would pay for that show. Jenny, for one. You should sell tickets."

Fonzie shook his head. "No can do. I made up my mind a long time ago that chicks and my work would not mix except on very special occasions."

"Sounds like a good policy," said Howard.

Marion fetched dessert from the kitchen. "Whoever will help with the dishes gets served first," she declared. Silence. "My, my, all too polite to cut each other off, eh?"

"I'll do it," Fonzie and Richie said together.

Marion beamed. "You boys are so sweet. Arthur, you can wash, Richie can dry, and I'll put them away. We'll have them done in no time."

"Suck-ups," Joanie said under her breath.

Richie elbowed her again.

* * *

That night they finished chapter eight of _Deerslayer _after working on some of Richie's other subjects.

"There's still a lot to do, but at least I'm almost caught up in literature," Richie said.

"Yeah." Fonzie flipped ahead a little to see how much of the story was left. "Only a few more chapters. Then we'll have to find a copy of the book."

"Dad said he had one. I'll get him to look for it before he opens the store tomorrow."

"Cool. So, how are you feeling?"

"Pain killer's working."

"How are you feeling about what happened today?"

"Okay. Still a little weird."

"Anything you want to discuss?"

Richie licked his lips.

"I'll take that as a yes." Fonzie set the book aside. "What's bothering you?"

"Well... the whole idea, really. I mean, say you know this guy, and you're friends—good friends. You want him to know how much you like him and care about him, but you can't show it the way you would to a girl. That's where Adam went wrong... right?"

"Where Adam went wrong was avoiding the real issue. When you have a problem with someone, you don't involve a third party until you've tried everything else."

"Okay, but supposing he hadn't avoided it. What if he'd just told you straight out what his problem was, away from other people?"

"I didn't know him before today. I'd probably tell him to snap out of it and get a life."

"What if you had known him before? What if you were friends?"

"Good friends?"

"The best. This guy would die for you. You'd cancel dates for him."

"Whoa." Fonzie thought it over. "I guess I'd tell him that, uh... things might not be able to go just how he wants, but he's important to me, so... we'd try to figure out something we could both live with. Ground rules, you know?"

"That seems fair."

"Cause I wouldn't want to lose a friend like that. But there are some lines you can't cross."

"So, I guess he'd have to talk to you to know where those lines are."

"Yeah, he would." Fonzie waited, not wanting to cut Richie off if he wanted to say more, but really not wanting to hear more. After a while, he asked, "Anything else you wanted to know?"

"Not right now... thanks."

Fonzie got up and stacked Richie's books as usual. "I'll come back when I get done at the garage tomorrow. In time for lunch, if things go well. If there's a lot to do, it might be later."

"Okay. Thanks for the help. You're a good friend."

"Ayy." Fonzie tossed his jacket over his shoulder and headed out. "Night, Rich." He saw that Joanie's light was on and poked his head into her room. "Night, Shortcake."

"Good night, Fonzie," Joanie answered, not taking her eyes off her nail-painting.

"You're doing your nails at this hour?"

"I'm always in a hurry in the morning. This way, I won't have to wait for them to dry."

"Very good idea. Don't stay up too late."

"It's Friday."

"I know. On school nights, you know better." He snapped his fingers as he turned away. The hall light went out. "Whoa, what a sensitive circuit." He thumped the wall with his elbow and the lights came back on.

"What was that?" Howard's muffled voice came from his and Marion's room.

"Just me leaving, Mr. C."

"Good night, Arthur," Marion called.

"Sweet dreams, Mrs. C." He thought he heard Howard grumble something. He decided to leave well enough alone and went downstairs. He made sure the house was locked up before he left. "Good night, Cunninghams."

* * *

Fonzie was under a car when Adam arrived. He saw the brown-haired boy crouched on the floor and set his tools down.

"Look out, I'll come out."

"Or I could grab one of those things and come under with you."

"I'm coming out," Fonzie said firmly.

Adam backed away and Fonzie slid out from under the car. He got up and went to the workbench where he had left the nails and square of plywood. "I got a job for you."

"Okay."

"I want these nails in this piece of plywood, one inch apart, this way and this way. Got it?"

"One inch apart. Okay. Got a tape measure?"

Fonzie banged the side of the workbench with his fist and a tape measure fell off the shelf above. "Knock yourself out."

"How far should I pound them in?"

"Far enough so they won't pull out easy, but don't go all the way through."

"All right."

Fonzie got back on his creeper and slid under the car again.

"What's this for, anyway?"

"That's gonna be a graph for Richie, so he can learn about parabolas an' stuff in geometry. Graphing number sequences."

"Oh. He'll be coming back to Jefferson, then?"

"That's the plan. I think if he shows his teachers he can do the work, he's got a good shot. Now get pounding."

For about half an hour, Fonzie worked without interruption. The banging of the hammer was annoying, but he pressed on in spite of it. Then the noise stopped.

"You finished?"

"My arm's getting tired," Adam said sheepishly. "Is it okay if I take a break?"

"Sure. Get under the hood and we can talk through the engine."

Adam did as he was told, and soon Fonzie saw the younger boy looking down at him.

"I keep thinking about yesterday," Adam said. "I feel like I could just die."

"That wouldn't help anything, would it?"

"I don't know. I guess not. Is Richie doing okay?"

"He'll live." Fonzie swapped out tools from his toolbox and continued working. "I want you to know you're not the first guy who's come on to me."

"Really? ...Are the others dead?"

"Nope. One moved away, one avoids me, and one pretends it never happened."

"Did you beat them up?"

"One of 'em. Wouldn't take no for an answer. He took a fist in his gut for an answer, though. That's the one that moved away. I just hope the guys in Buffalo can take care of themselves."

"Wow. What about the other two?"

"The one who avoids me... think I broke his little heart. But last I heard, he was going steady with a nice girl from the other side of town. Seems like he really likes her, so I leave him alone. As for the last one... he's the work-in-progress lookin' down at me right now."

Adam looked away. "So, you want me to pretend it never happened."

"Yeah, as far as anyone else is concerned, anyway. And eventually with me."

"If I can't handle that, are you gonna hit me?"

"I really don't think it'll come to that. You're gonna get over it. Now listen, while you're here, you may as well hand tools to me."

"Sure." Adam knelt beside the car and Fonzie shoved the toolbox out to him.

"Know what a socket wrench is?"

Adam dug in the toolbox. "This thing?"

"Yeah... that thing."

"Sorry. I'm pretty clueless about anything more complicated than a hammer or a screwdriver."

"That's okay. I'll teach you. By the time I get done, you'll know all the sizes, standard and metric."

* * *

Two cars later, Fonzie went to the washing station and scrubbed the grease and oil off his hands. "How's my hair?"

"Perfect."

"Same as usual, huh? You got that graph board done?"

"Yeah. I drew lines on it to make sure I put the nails in straight lines."

"Good idea. See, you're not so bad in a garage."

Fonzie dried his hands and went to admire Adam's work. "That's great. You saved me a lot of time."

"I'm sure you could have done it a lot faster."

"You're probably right. But you still saved me time, and this made a nice little detention activity for you."

"So, is it time to go?"

"Almost. First I want to settle something." Fonzie planted himself and worked up his resolve. "It's just you and me here, and no one else is coming in today. So no one besides us will ever know if you kiss me right now."

Adam looked shocked. His face slowly went from pale to pink to puce.

"What's the matter?"

"I... I thought you wanted me to just forget about it."

"I believe in letting a man get a thing out of his system."

"Really? It's not a trick or something?"

"Tricks are for dogs. You want it or not?"

Adam came toward him timidly.

Fonzie waited, determined not to move until Adam made up his mind. He could see that Adam was breathing hard. "Would it help if I closed my eyes?"

"No... I don't think it would. Fonzie, I can't kiss you."

"Why not?"

"Because you don't want me to."

"That's right."

"There wouldn't be anything good about it."

"That's right, too."

"Oh my gosh, I've been such an idiot..."

"That's probably also right."

"All this time, I've been imagining all these things... things I wanted to do with you..."

"You can keep those to yourself."

"...but none of that's ever going to happen. I've wasted so much time wishing for something that's not real."

"Come'ere."

Adam took the last step and Fonzie put his arms around him. "It's okay."

Adam let out a sigh that sounded like a lot of relief and surrender. "You're ten times the guy I thought you were... and I worshiped you."

"Lemme tell you something: When you make someone your idol, you put him in a box. You can admire him and dream about him and make up all these nice little stories... but you can't be his friend."

"You're right... are you always right?"

"Just about."

"I never tried just being your friend. I'm so sorry."

Fonzie moved back, but kept his arm around Adam's shoulders. "Well, look at it this way—you can't do any worse than this, right? Things'll get better."

"I hope so."

"I know so. Here's your homework assignment: I want you to make a new friend this week. Find a guy you have some stuff in common with. Make sure he's a good guy; the kind who brushes his teeth and takes care of his mom. Hang out with him and see how good a friend you can be. Leave your digits with me and I'll call you next Saturday to see how you're doing."

"What if I can't make any friends?"

"You get points for effort. Will you try?"

"Yeah, I will." Adam went back to the bench and wrote his number on a notepad. "Thanks. Hanging out here with you was better than anything I've thought up."

"Go on, get outta here."

"Yeah... see you 'round, Fonzie."

Fonzie watched him go. When he was sure he was alone again, he let his posture sag a little and let out his breath in a long sigh. Then he turned his gaze and his thumb upward. "Thanks."

* * *

_Leave a review; Fonzie will get back to you soon.  
_


	12. Blind Date

_Enjoy._

* * *

**Blind Date  
**

* * *

Richie looked preoccupied at lunch. Fonzie gave him a few light, probing questions, but couldn't figure out what was distracting him. In the interest of gaining the privacy of Richie's room sooner, he ate quickly and helped Marion bring the dessert out.

Joanie pestered her parents about letting her car-date, to which Howard emphatically said "Absolutely not!" Finally, Richie was done eating.

"Well, we better hit the books, Red," Fonzie said, hopping up and quickly putting his chair back in place.

Richie got up more slowly. "Yeah. Thanks for lunch, mom."

"Back to work for me," said Howard.

"And back to a boring life for me," Joanie griped.

"Not so boring," said Marion. "It's your turn to help with the dishes."

"Aw, man!"

Richie still wasn't very talkative when they got to his room, so Fonzie prompted him.

"You gonna ask me how it went with Adam?"

"Oh, yeah. How'd it go?"

"Very well," Fonzie said proudly. "I think there's a good shot that he can get over the whole thing."

"That's good."

"And I brought you this graph for your lines and parabolas."

"Thanks." Richie took the plywood and ran his hand over the nail heads. "This is great, Fonz."

"I know. So, how come you're not more excited? You've been mulling something over all through lunch. What is it?"

Richie walked around his bed and carefully lowered himself onto it. "Well... when I woke up this morning, I saw the light from the window. Once I was awake enough, I could kind of see the shape of it."

"That's great! Again, you're not very excited."

"I know I should be. I really want my sight to come back. But..."

"But what? I don't see you've got anything to lose."

"That's because I'm me and you're the Fonz."

Fonzie sat on the bed and leaned back beside Richie. "Okay, what is it I'm not getting here?"

"If I can see again, I won't need your help with school. You won't come over nearly as much. I've really liked us being so..."

"Close?"

"Yeah."

Fonzie thought about how he had treated Richie differently since the accident. He'd been very careful of him, but not prevented him from doing things on his own if he wanted to. But he'd also spent a lot more time with hm, and given him a lot more direct contact. "Well... that's nice. I mean, I'm touched. And you're right... when you can see better, you won't need me around so much. But I still wanna read those Leatherstocking books with you, right?"

"Yeah..." Richie still looked a little forlorn.

"Aw, come on, Rich." Fonzie scooped his arm behind Richie's shoulders and gave him a squeeze.

Richie turned and latched onto Fonzie in a full-scale hug.

"All right, easy. Don't muss the hair."

"Sorry." Richie settled down on the bed again. "I'm just going to miss this."

"Well... we can still do this once in a while. You know, when you're stuck at home with nothing to do." Fonzie knew Richie hadn't been talking about their homework sessions—he'd meant the hug. And Fonzie hoped Richie knew that was what he had meant, too. If there weren't any witnesses around, it wouldn't hurt his reputation... as long as Richie kept his mouth shut, and the redhead was better at that than most.

* * *

Richie's sight improved slowly, but steadily. In the meantime, Fonzie continued to read his textbooks to him.

Tuesday night, Richie was nearly caught up to his classmates in most subjects. He stretched and sniffed the air.

"I think mom's making meatloaf."

"Oh, don't think about that; you have a date."

"I do?"

"Yeah. You know how the other day you were saying your social life was suffering—I fixed you up a little date."

"You didn't have to do that..."

"I know. I'm just nice like that."

"But Fonz, I can't drive."

"I thought of that. This chick has her own car."

"Wow... who is it?"

"Harriet Taylor."

"She's from kind of a rich family, isn't she?"

"So, what?"

Richie whistled. "Going out with a rich girl I can't see in her own car..."

"You can see her... you can see me, can't you?"

He looked at the dark-and-light blob of mixed up color that he knew was Fonzie. "I can tell where you are. That's about it."

"That's all you need. She knows your sight isn't too good, but she said that would be all right."

"Well, I should have told mom about this so she'd know not to set me a place at the table..."

"I already told her. Come on, let's pick you out a suit."

"A suit? This isn't a formal date, is it?"

"No, but as you pointed out... she's rich, Rich."

"Right."

So, Richie changed into a suit. By this time, Fonzie was used to staying around when Richie got dressed; instead of hanging out in the hall, he just kept his back to the room. Maybe if he'd had siblings he wouldn't be so shy about it.

"How about a tie?" Richie asked.

"Hm. No, I think if you leave out the tie you'll come across sort of casual chic. Like you're classy but you don't care."

"I don't know... I should probably wear a tie if we're going to dinner."

"All right, fine." Fonzie chose a tie. "This'll do." He looped it around Richie's neck.

"I can tie it," said Richie.

"I know, but we're in a hurry." Fonzie started looping the tie around, but soon became lost. "Wait a second... I'm not used to doing this from the front."

"So much for being in a hurry."

Fonzie took Richie by the shoulders and turned him toward the mirror. Then he stood behind him and reached around. "Hold still." This time, he made his knot with no trouble. "There you go. Come on, she'll be here any minute."

"Gee, you think you could have told me about this a little sooner?"

"If I had, you wouldn't have been able to concentrate on your homework." Fonzie opened the door.

"I wish I had some flowers or something for her."

"They're in water in the living room. I've got some nice paper to wrap them in all laid out."

"Wow, you thought of everything."

"That's what I do."

On the way down the stairs, Richie said, "Hey, even though she's driving, I should still pay for dinner. What if she wants to go someplace fancy?"

He felt some bills being pressed into his hand.

"She won't take you anyplace too upscale, but just in case I advised Mr. C to spot you a few."

"How much is here?"

"All he had on him was six bucks. I matched him."

"You gave me six dollars of your own money?"

"I didn't steal it from Joanie."

"Fonzie, I can't take this."

"Oh, Richie," Marion's voice came from the moving blur of family over by the kitchen, "you look so nice all dressed up for your date."

"I'll get the flowers," said Fonzie.

Richie shoved the money in his pocket, not wanting to continue the discussion in front of his family. "You don't mind that I'm going out?" he asked.

"No, I think it'll be nice for you."

"Have a good time," Howard's voice said.

"Tell me all about her after," said Joanie. "I heard she has a different pair of shoes for every day of the month!"

"It's not nice to gossip, dear," Marion scolded.

Fonzie came back and handed Richie a bouquet wrapped in thin paper. Before he could say anything else about the money Fonzie had given him, there was a knock at the door.

"All right, here she is," said Fonzie. He opened the door.

Richie couldn't tell much about Harriet from what little he could see, but he liked the sound of her voice when she introduced herself to him and his family.

"Now, don't keep him out too late," Fonzie instructed her. "Tonight is a school night, after all."

"Don't worry, I'll have him home early. Thanks for setting us up, Fonzie."

"No problem; we're square now. Have a nice night."

Richie stepped outside with Harriet and Fonzie closed the door behind them.

"Your family seems nice," Harriet said.

"Thanks. Oh, these are for you." Richie gave her the flowers.

"That's very thoughtful."

"I can't take the credit; Fonzie took care of all the details for tonight. Do you know where you want to eat?"

"Oh, anyplace is fine. There's a little Italian cafe I like; would that be all right?"

"Sure."

"Here's the car."

Richie put his hand out to touch the blue blur in front of him. "It's nice... from what I can tell." He opened the driver's side door for her before going around to the passenger side.

"My parents got it for me to drive to school."

Harriet told Richie about attending an all-girls' school outside Milwaukee. Since all Richie's friends went to Jefferson High, he didn't know much about other schools. By the time she got done describing it, they had arrived at the cafe.

Once they were seated, Harriet picked up a menu. "I'll read off the entrees to you," she offered.

"Thanks. Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"What did Fonzie mean when he said you're square now?"

"Oh, that. I went on a couple of dates with Fonzie a while back. I liked him a lot. I didn't know he went with a lot of other girls... I guess I'm not so much in the loop around here. I wanted to go steady with him. When I found out he wasn't that kind of guy, I was pretty upset. I guess he felt bad about it. He said he'd keep an eye out for a nice, steady kind of guy he could set me up with."

"So, I'm the steady guy?"

"Hey, I think it's a compliment. The way he talked about you, I can tell he thinks a lot of you. That's good enough for me... or I wouldn't be here. Ready to hear the menu?"

They placed their orders. Richie hoped the prices weren't too high, but the smells and sounds around him made him think there wasn't much to worry about.

"You said you like this place," he said to break the silence. "Do you come here a lot?"

"Sometimes I come here for lunch if I don't want to go all the way home. It's not too fancy, but it's better than fast food."

"Is this the kind of place you like for a date, too?"

"It depends on what mood I'm in."

"You're not against fast food on principle, are you?"

Harriet laughed. "Nah, I'll have it once in a while. It's just so bad for you, you know?

"Yeah."

"Are you wondering if I usually eat expensive food because my parents are loaded?"

Richie hadn't been expecting this direct question. "Well, I... you see... I... I wouldn't..."

"It's okay. I'm used to the curiosity. A lot of the girls at my school are from rich families, and it gets really annoying, how high-minded some of them are. Then there are the people who want to be your friend just for your money. It's hard to make real friends."

"That sounds tough." Richie took a sip of water, just to have something to do.

"It can be. But I'm just a normal person. At least I try to be," she laughed. "Now that we've got that out of the way, can I ask you about your blindness?"

"Oh... sure. What do you want to know?"

"Fonzie said it happened at a swimming pool and that you've gotten a little of your sight back. That's about all I know. So, how well _can _you see?"

"Well, I can see that there's someone in the chair across from me. I can be pretty sure it's a girl... it looks like she has long, light brown hair, and she's smaller than my guy friends. That's about all I can tell for sure. But that's a lot better than it was when I first woke up in the hospital, I can tell you. Back then, I wouldn't be able to tell there was a chair here, let alone someone in it."

"I like you, Richie. I think you have a good attitude."

"Thanks... I like you too. You're not what I expected, and I'm glad I was wrong. Guess I should trust Fonzie's judgment."

"Yeah; I know I will after this."

Richie had expected his blindness to make the date much more awkward, but by the time they were ready to head home he felt very much at ease. It was completely dark when they got back to the house, so Harriet led him up to the door.

"I had a great time," he told her. "Maybe soon I can drive you someplace."

"I'd like that. I had a good time, too." Harriet kissed his cheek. "Good night."

"Good night." Richie have her hand a squeeze. He waited outside the door until he heard her car start. Then he waved and went inside.

"Welcome home." Fonzie was standing right inside the door.

Richie jumped. "Geez, Fonzie! What are you doing here?"

"I just came down to wait for you to come home and see how it went. I have to say, it could have been better."

"Oh, really? I'll have you know we both enjoyed ourselves..."

"Did she kiss you?"

"Yes."

"On the mouth?"

"Well... no... but I don't usually kiss on the first date, anyway."

"Richie, Richie, Richie..."

Richie scowled. "You know, it's not really your business."

"No? I set you up."

"Yeah, thanks. Harriet's a nice girl."

"Did she let you pay for dinner?"

"Oh yeah... here's the change." Richie pulled out what was left of the money and handed it to Fonzie.

"Come on upstairs. You get ready for bed and I'll tell you what you did wrong."

Richie sighed. He knew he wasn't going to escape a lecture on strategy. Fonzie was the expert, of course, but sometimes Richie wished he could be left alone to find things out for himself.

* * *

_Thanks for reading... now how about leaving a comment this time?  
_


	13. The Three Elements

_Next installment... hope you like it, even if you don't say so. (This is my first chaptered fic that has not gotten multiple reviews for most of the chapters... I'm wondering what's so different about Happy Days fans that they don't leave comments. And why is Australia my second biggest readership? I guess the show was pretty popular over there? Anyway...)  
_

* * *

**The Three Elements  
**

* * *

"So, next time, say something about her. And use her name. Chicks dig it when you use their name; makes 'em feel special."

Richie crossed his arms behind his head. "Why? because you actually remembered which girl you were with?"

"No lip, Cunningham. You know I know what I'm talking about."

"Okay, so... I should have said 'Good night, _Harriet'_ instead of just good night."

"Exactamundo. I know your dating career has been improving, but if you tweak these little details, you'll get much farther."

"Maybe you're right."

"Now, assuming you ever get the opportunity to use it again, how's your kiss?"

"Oh... I haven't had any complaints."

Fonzie rolled his eyes. "If you get complaints, you're not just pathetic, you're outta line. No, what kinda feedback do you get?"

"I don't know. I think I get a pretty good response."

"Pretty good? You don't get this primal, never-let-go, hit-me-again response?"

"...Uh. Not usually," Richie hedged.

"Okay, after homework tomorrow, you are getting some tutoring of another nature."

"Aw, Fonzie... can't you just let me figure this stuff out for myself?"

"You wanna be lonely this Christmas? It'll take you months to work up to a good kiss, and by that time she'll be having second thoughts. She'll dump you for someone more experienced just in time for the holidays. Is that what you want?"

"It was just one date! Will you lay off?"

"All right." Fonzie raised his arms and lowered them slowly, his trademark keeping-it-together gesture. "You sleep on it and we'll chat tomorrow. Get a good night's sleep."

"Okay. Good night, Fonzie."

"There, ya see? I feel special. Should have used her name."

Richie sighed, but he smiled. Somehow Fonzie's stubbornness was endearing.

* * *

The next day, Joanie came to Richie's room as soon as she got home from school. Fonzie was just finishing a chapter in Richie's biology textbook.

"Richie, guess what!"

"Joanie," Richie complained, "don't you ever knock? I mean, I still can't see well—at least with a door between us you can't see me either. Kind of even the playing field, you know?"

"Oh, quit complaining. Guess who asked me out."

"I don't know... Ralph?"

"Would I be excited if Ralph Malph asked me out?" she asked dryly.

"Would anyone?" said Fonzie. He laughed.

"It's Jim Michaels from the basketball team."

Richie took interest in the conversation for the first time. "Oh, yeah? He's our newest player. I sure miss playing. Hope coach will let me get right back into practice when I can see well enough."

"He's going to take me to the drive-in movie."

"Mom and dad are letting you car date?"

"Well, no... we're going to ride over on bicycles. I hope I don't look too silly... I kind of outgrew my bike."

"Hey, don't worry about it, Shortcake," said Fonzie. "You park your bike under my stairs and I'll give it a tune-up before dinner. Put the seat up, adjust the handlebars... I'll give it my best shot."

"Thanks, Fonzie."

"Hey, you're welcome. Is there a basket on the bike?"

"I thought I'd take it off... it looks kind of juvenile."

"No, you don't wanna do that; you'll need someplace to put your popcorn."

"Oh, yeah. Good idea." Joanie kissed Fonzie's cheek. "I'm gonna go pick my outfit. See you at dinner."

"Okay, back to biology..." Fonzie went back to reading. When he finished, he asked eagerly, "Time for _Deerslayer?"_

"We'd better read my actual literature assignment first," Richie pointed out.

"Fine. What's next...?" Fonzie picked up the literature book and flipped the pages. "Oh, it's a lousy poem."

"This must be the one we have to write an essay on. Potsie told me about it. It's by E. E. Cummings, right?"

"Yeah. It's called 'I Carry Your Heart With Me (I carry it in).' What a weird title. Sounds like this guy was trying to write a song, not a poem. Do we really have to read this? Maybe your mom can read it to you later..."

"Come on, Fonzie. It's not that bad. You know, girls go wild for poetry."

"I know that. All right, I'll give it a try." Fonzie began. "'i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)i am never without it(anywhere...' What is wrong with this man's punctuation?! He doesn't capitalize, he doesn't put spaces where they belong..."

"That's how he wrote. It was his style. It's unique."

"Ain't we lucky?" Fonzie chuckled and went on.

"i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done

by only me is your doing,my darling)

i fear

no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want

no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)

and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)"

"Wow," said Richie. "That's heavy stuff."

"You're telling me. He didn't even say anything provocative. But it's all... I need to get to a phone."

Richie laughed. "Not yet. I need you to help me make some notes on the poem so I can write my essay tomorrow. I want to know where the line breaks are, and what punctuation he used."

"All right." Fonzie dutifully jotted down a few points in a notebook.

"Thanks. Mom can help me with that tomorrow. Hey, did I tell you dad called the principal, and they're going to let me try going to school on Monday?"

"No, you didn't. That's great. Now can we read _Deerslayer?"_

Richie grinned. "Sure."

They finished chapter fifteen, and Fonzie seemed impatient to read more.

"I wanna know how they rescue that guy, but I promised Shortcake I'd work on her bike," he grumbled. "And we gotta fit in your kissing lessons."

"I was hoping you forgot about that."

"Don't be silly."

"Aw, you saw how Joanie burst in here earlier—what if she started eavesdropping on us? She'd tell everyone! I'd never hear the end of it. I'd get back to school on Monday and it would be my first and last day back at Jefferson High."

"Will you stop exaggerating? If you're that worried about it, come help me with the bike and we can go up to my apartment after. No one bursts in _there _uninvited. And believe me, they've tried."

* * *

Once Fonzie had adjusted Joanie's bike as much as possible, Richie reluctantly followed him up to his apartment.

"This better not take long. Dinner will be ready soon."

"Hey, I can teach it in no time, but how fast can you learn it?"

"I guess we'll find out."

"Yeah. Siddown at the table."

Richie sat, put his elbows on the table and waited. "Okay. Tell me how I can improve my kissing game."

"There are three elements you have to master."

"I should have brought my notebook."

"Pay attention! The first element is duration."

"Duration," Richie repeated. "You mean how long you hold the kiss."

"Right. Too quick, you seem scared. Too long, you seem brutish. Like all the elements, you have to adjust according to the girl you're with, but any good kiss is neither too quick nor too long."

"Got it."

"Second element is intensity. No intensity, you seem like a creep. Too much intensity, you seem like an animal. But even if you have the right duration and intensity, you still need the third element, or you come off as boring. Care to guess what the last element is?"

"Um... surprise me."

"Creativity, Cunningham."

"Oh."

"Yeah, creativity. Don't make every kiss the same—don't even make one kiss the same from start to finish. You gotta have movement, surprises. Chicks love surprises. Now, review."

"Uh... duration. Uh, intensity, and... creativity."

"That was shaky. We'll work on that. So, I want you to review these points and recite them back to me every night. Friday you're taking Harriet out again, and you're gonna lay one on her. The new, improved R. C. peck."

"I don't know, Fonzie... I don't think you can plan these things ahead of time."

Fonzie cleared his throat.

"Well, maybe you can, but... I like to live in the moment."

"You're kidding yourself, Red. Do your homework. You'll thank me."

Joanie's voice came from below the apartment. "Hey, Fonzie! Thanks for the tuneup. Mom says dinner's almost ready."

Fonzie opened his door and waved to her. "Okay, Shortcake. Have fun. Come on," he said to Richie, "let's get down there."

* * *

Richie did his homework—both for Jefferson and for Fonzie. By Friday night, he could see shape and color a lot more clearly, and he could recite "duration, intensity, creativity" immediately when asked for "the three elements." Marion thought it was something to do with biology... which wasn't entirely wrong.

When Harriet came to pick him up, he got a much better look at her than before. He still couldn't see her features clearly, but he could tell she had a decent figure. They went to the movies, and on the big screen he could follow the action pretty well.

When they got back to the house, he could make out something reflecting the light from the house and asked Harriet, "Is that a bicycle parked by the garage?"

"Yes, it is," said Harriet.

"I guess Joanie's home. She had a bike date tonight." He chuckled. "Kids."

Harriet smiled.

"Well... here we are again," he said when they came to the front door.

"Mhm. Here we are."

Richie knew his palms were sweating. _Duration, intensity... creativity. What's a creative move? Oh, great. I can't think. If Fonzie had just left me alone..._

"Thanks for the movie, Richie." Harriet leaned in and kissed Richie's face as she had before. "Good night."

Knowing it was his last chance, Richie took her by the arms and pressed their mouths together. _Is this a good intensity? I think so... what do I do for creativity?_ He moved his lips experimentally. _Criminy, how long has it been? Is this a bad duration?_ He backed away suddenly. "Good night," he said stiffly, opening the door. He didn't wait for her to go back to the car this time. All he could think about was getting the door closed between them. Then he remembered something and opened the door again. "Good night, Harriet." _I said good night twice. So lame._

This time he wasn't surprised when he spotted Fonzie sitting at the table.

"So. How did it go?"

Richie scowled. "I don't know."

"You don't know? How do you not know?"

"I just got so confused... I spent the whole time worrying about adjusting the three elements... I have no idea if she even liked it." Richie sighed and sat beside Fonzie.

"I was afraid of this. I sent you out too green. Tell you what, you need some hands-on experience. Need to get you a chick to practice on—an unbiased set of lips to give you feedback."

"Oh, no... I can't meet up with some girl just for the purpose of kissing." Richie thought about what he'd just said. "...Can I?"

"Why not?"

"Well, where would I find a girl willing to do that?"

"I'll find one. No problem."

"I don't know. I don't think I should kiss another girl when I'm seeing Harriet."

"Why, you two going steady?"

"Not exactly..."

"You've been on two dates with her, now you think going with someone else would be cheating?"

"No, but..."

"Good. I'll get a chick over to my place tomorrow night so you can practice."

"But—"

"End of discussion. Good night, Cunningham." Fonzie got up and was out the door before Richie could think of anything to say.

"When he ends a discussion, he ends a discussion." Richie sighed.

Joanie tiptoed down the stairs. "I thought that was you, Rich. Did you have fun on your date?"

"Sure. I think it went okay. How about yours?"

"It was lots of fun... but boy, it gets tiring sitting on a bike seat for over an hour. I had to stand up peddling home."

Richie gave her a sympathetic smile. "Oh well. Someday you'll be old enough to car date."

"Yeah... when I'm in my forties, if dad gets his way."

* * *

_This is Fonzie's office... leave a message.  
_


	14. Lesson Two

_For those who like slash, you should enjoy this chapter. For those who don't, you can still take it as just shenanigans between friends._

* * *

**Lesson Two  
**

* * *

Fonzie was working in the garage when Phil called to him from the office.

"Fonzie, there's a call for you."

"Tell her I'll call her back."

"It's not a girl."

Fonzie came out from under the hood of the pickup he'd been working on. "It's not a girl?" he repeated.

"No, some kid. Says his name is Adam someone-or-other."

"Adam? Oh! That Adam. I'll take it." Fonzie hurried to the office and shut the door behind him. He picked up the phone. "This is the Fonz."

"Hi, Fonzie, it's Adam."

"I heard. Listen, I'm sorry I didn't call you. I was going to remember by tonight, though. Probably."

"That's okay. I figured you were busy. How's Richie?"

"Gettin' better all the time."

"Good. I decided to go ahead and call you. I wanted to give up, but I finally met a new guy yesterday, and I think we can probably be friends. We're going to proofread each other's English assignments tomorrow."

"Hey, that's great. He's a good guy?"

"Yeah. Has a nice family, too. He's going to come to my house, but I hope I'll get to meet his folks soon. Oh, and I got a date for tonight, too."

"You're a busy man. Who's the lucky girl?"

"Arlene Johnson. Sylvia Johnson's cousin."

"I don't know her. Why don't I know her?"

"She's a freshman."

"_That's_ why I don't know her!"

"Yeah, kinda young for you."

"Kinda young for you, too."

"Well, I wanted to keep things low-pressure."

"I see. Good plan. I hope it goes well."

"Thanks."

"Listen, whatever happens, I think it's great that you're making such a strong effort here, you know?"

"Thank you. I am kind of nervous, but I want to do this."

"And you've got a good heart. I knew there was nothing wrong with you."

"I just wish..."

"Yeah, of course you do, but just worry about one thing at a time, okay? Think about your date."

"Okay. You're the best, Fonzie."

"So they keep telling me. See you later, kid." Fonzie hung up the phone and took a long breath of satisfaction. _I think he's gonna do all right._

* * *

Richie didn't know what to expect that night. After dinner, he followed Fonzie up to the apartment. He paced the room while Fonzie unconcernedly boiled water for cocoa.

Finally, Fonzie said, "Will you quit that pacing? You're makin' _me_ nervous."

"Sorry." Richie sat at Fonzie's little table and tapped his foot rapidly.

"Cunningham."

"Sorry, Fonz." Richie put his hand on his knee, trying to stop its motion.

To his relief, it was then that the promised visitor knocked on the door.

"Come on in, Laverne."

Richie's eyes widened. "Laverne? Lavern Defazio?" He turned around as Laverne entered. "Laverne! Nice to see you again... Fonzie didn't tell me you were the one coming over," Richie said, shooting Fonzie an annoyed look.

"Well, I wanted it to be a surprise," said Fonzie, holding out his arms for Laverne.

Laverne went to him and gave him a quick kiss. "Nice to see you, Richie. Shirley was real jealous she wasn't invited."

"You didn't have to tell her where you were going."

"Yes, I did."

"Rivalry is Laverne's favorite thing," Fonzie explained.

"I, uh... I remember," Richie said, recalling his first experience with Laverne and Shirley.

"So, whatcha want me to show him?" Laverne asked.

"First I want an assessment," said Fonzie. "I'll fix us some cocoa while you get your samples."

"Samples?" asked Richie nervously.

"He means kisses," Laverne interpreted. "A dry run with no instruction."

"Oh. Okay..."

Laverne went to Richie's chair. "You gonna take it standing up, or you just gonna sit there?"

"Uh..." Richie stood up. He saw Fonzie give him a thumbs-up. _Try to be confident,_ he told himself. He leaned in and gave Laverne his standard good-night kiss.

"Okay, now try something a little different."

This time, Richie tried to remember the three elements.

"Uh-huh, and one more."

Richie tried to imagine that Laverne was a girl he really liked and wanted to impress.

"Okay, sit down."

Richie did as he was told.

Fonzie brought three mugs to the table. "How'd he do?"

"You were right to call."

Richie grimaced. "Was I that bad?"

"Gimme the score," said Fonzie.

"I give him one amateur, one creepy with potential, and one selfish mutt."

"What was your second approach?" Fonzie asked.

"Trying to employ the three elements," said Richie meekly.

"And notice, that was the one that had potential." Fonzie sipped his cocoa. "Okay, so Laverne's got experience, she's got class, and she likes a good time. She needs a kiss that's not over too soon. A kiss that she can really feel, that holds her interest. Something like this." Fonzie kissed her.

Richie tried to pay attention, but his vision still wasn't very clear. "I can't really pick out the finer points there, Fonz..."

"I know. Laverne—" Fonzie snapped his fingers. "Pass it on."

Laverne grabbed Richie and kissed him intently, moving her lips over his and caressing his neck with her fingers.

"Wow..."

"Now you see what I'm talking about?"

"I think so..."

"Good. Now give it back to her."

Richie did his best, but he didn't do so well under pressure... and Fonzie watching his efforts gave him a lot of that.

"Student shows improvement," Laverne reported, "but it's a long way to graduation."

* * *

After about half an hour, the cocoa was gone and Richie felt too chagrined to go on.

"I think we've seen all the progress we can tonight, Fonz," said Laverne. "Anyway, my lips are getting tired, going back and forth from him to you, him to you... Not that it wasn't fun," she added. "But you know... I almost think I should have brought Shirl along to sub for me."

"You did fine, Laverne. What's the final grade?"

"Eh, about a C. Maybe a C plus." She patted Richie's shoulder. "Don't worry, kid. You'll make it. See ya later, Fonz. Don't wait so long to call again."

Fonzie walked her to the door. "Good night, Laverne. Here, I know your lips are kinda tired, so..." He kissed her hand.

"Well," Richie said dismally when the door was shut, "I guess that's that. I'm a hopeless kisser. I had no idea."

"Nah, that's not true. Now, about last year, _then_ you were a hopeless kisser. Now you got hope. I got an idea, too." Fonzie pulled down the shade on the door and moved around the room, closing the curtains.

"What kind of idea?"

"Taking out the middle man. It's tough for you to know what I mean when I gotta go through Laverne, right? So—"

"Aw, Fonzie... you don't mean—"

"Desperate times call for desperate maneuvers."

"That's measures."

"Whatever. Come 'ere." Fonzie tipped Richie's face up.

"Fonz..."

Then Fonzie's lips were on his. Richie almost struggled. _This is the Fonz... struggling would be useless. Besides, he's just trying to help, right? Maybe I can learn from this..._ imperceptibly, he began to relax.

"That's duration." Fonzie came down again, with more force this time.

Richie felt the color rising in his cheeks and his heart beginning to pound.

"That's intensity." And a third time.

Fonzie's mouth was moving in an almost hypnotic way, his hand on the back of Richie's neck sending chills down the redhead's spine. Richie felt moisture on his lips. _Did he open his mouth? Eww... but it kind of feels good._

"That's creativity. Understand?"

Richie sat with his jaw hanging, staring at Fonzie's blurry face. "Uh... I think so."

"Okay, pop quiz. You give it back to me. All three." Fonzie crouched on the floor by Richie's chair, giving him the height advantage.

Richie took a deep breath. He put one hand on Fonzie's face (something he never would have dared to do ordinarily) to help aim and tried his best to repeat what Fonzie had just shown him. He pulled away more nervous than ever, but eager to hear how he'd done.

"Cunningham, that was at least a B minus."

"Really?"

"Really. Letter-grade improvement. Oh, but... by the way." Fonzie put his arm around Richie's shoulders and spoke in a very serious tone. "If you ever tell anyone about this, your life is gonna be an F, got it?"

Richie laughed nervously. "Oh, I wouldn't do that."

"Yeah, I thought you were smart enough to know better, but you can't be too careful. You _are_ friends with Potsie." Fonzie patted his face. "That's enough for now. Take the rest of the night off."

* * *

Sunday neither Howard nor Fonzie went to work. After lunch, Fonzie helped Richie get caught up on the last of his class work and Joanie went out to spend her allowance. She came back with a skirt Howard said was too short, and Marion offered to let the hem out. Howard grumbled that any decent clothing store would be closed on Sunday. A typical day at the Cunningham's house.

At dinner, Richie informed the family that he was ready for school the next day. "I'm going to talk to each of my teachers to make sure I get all my assignments right, and I'll get notes from Ralph and Potsie. In a few days, I might be able to see well enough to take my own."

"That's right," said Marion. "Think positive."

"I wanna tell you, this kid has been a great student," said Fonzie. "He's done great in all his subjects, he's got everything packed up in order so he can find the right books tomorrow, he's gonna go to bed early tonight and get lots of sleep... he is set."

"We're very proud of you, Richie," said Howard. "And Fonzie, no one could have been a better tutor. I want you to know we appreciate the work you've put in."

"Hey, it didn't seem like work, you know? I even learned some o' that high school stuff I missed out on when I dropped out. I like that history book. And the literature! I'm glad you're gonna let us read your Leatherstocking books, Mr. C. Cause I wanna know how the rest of that guy's life went."

"I've never seen anyone so excited over a book," said Joanie.

"Reading is cool," Fonzie growled.

"Do you want to read another chapter tonight?" asked Richie.

"Well, I would, but I've got a date tonight..." Fonzie saw that Richie looked disappointed. "But I can put it off a little while. I'll just call Sylvia and let her know to come over a little later."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, no problem."

"Thanks. I'll go get ready for bed so I can go right to sleep when we're done."

Fonzie got up when Richie did. "Thank you very much for dinner, Mrs. C. I'll just go up to my apartment and make my call."

"Arthur," said Marion, "you could just use our phone right here."

"Oh, thanks a lot, but I better go upstairs just in case it gets kinda personal, you know?"

Marion smiled knowingly. "Oh, I see. Yes, go ahead."

So, Fonzie went up to his apartment and made his call. Then he made a second.

"Hey, Harriet? This is the Fonz. Not bad, sweetheart. Listen, Richie's busy getting ready to go back to school tomorrow, so I decided to call on his behalf. He wants to take you to a movie this Friday. What's playing? You know, I'm not sure. Why don't you see if there's something you'll like, and you can call Richie tomorrow night? Fine. No problem. You take care, now."

Fonzie hung up and skipped off back to the Cunninghams', very proud of himself.

Richie was in his pajamas and tucked up in bed with the book on his lap.

"Hey, good news," Fonzie said as he shut the door.

"Sylvia's not mad about pushing your date back?"

"Yeah, but more good news. You're taking Harriet to a movie on Friday."

"I am?"

"Yeah, I just talked to her."

"What's playing?"

"You know, you two are so alike, it is scary. She asked the same thing."

"And?"

"I dunno."

"Ah."

Fonzie flopped onto the bed beside Richie and held out his hand for the book.

"It would be nice to do the asking myself."

"When were you going to ask her? Next month?" Fonzie opened and closed his hand, waiting.

"Think I'll be ready for another date so soon?"

"Sure, you will." Fonzie moved his hand around in circles.

"I'm still not very confident..."

"The book, Cunningham."

"Oh, sorry, Fonz." Richie handed him the book.

Fonzie read the chapter with his usual enthusiasm. When he got to the end, he wished he had told Sylvia not to come over at all. "This is terrible. Deerslayer's really in a fix!"

"Well, we know he has to live through it, or there wouldn't be four more books, right?" Richie pointed out.

Fonzie scowled at him. "You know something? You take all the excitement out of this."

"I'm just saying... I think we'll survive until tomorrow night. You'd better get going now so I can sleep."

Reluctantly, Fonzie put the book away. "Okay. Sweet dreams."

"Hey, you think I can really be ready to take Harriet out again by Friday? What if there aren't any movies she'd like to see? What if I get nervous? What if I can't remember what you showed me..."

Fonzie rolled his eyes and leaned over to smother Richie's mouth with his own. Richie was surprised, but he recovered quickly. "There, you see? You'll do okay. Certainly better than you did on your last date." Fonzie chuckled. "Hey, maybe soon you'll be reading to me, huh? Eyes keep getting better." He switched off Richie's light and left the room.

As he closed the door, he heard a faint, "...Good night."

* * *

_Someone turn down the heat in here. ^^ Leave a review on the way out. I had fun writing Laverne. Hope you enjoyed it.  
_


	15. Special Case

_I couldn't help putting in a little asterisk in this chapter * to indicate the spot where the studio audience would have cheered and put a halt on the dialogue until it died down. Since hardly anyone's reviewing the story, I figure I can add a weird little quirk like this and not get any complaints. (THANKS, No Just Dot! ^^)  
_

_If you haven't read Black Beauty, there's a spoiler in this chapter._

* * *

**Special Case**

* * *

Ralph and Potsie were unusually helpful at school. Potsie walked ahead to look for obstacles, and Ralph led Richie around. In the past, both of them had often asked to copy Richie's notes, so they thought it was only fair that they take notes for him now. A brief conversation with each teacher left Richie confident that he could continue school with few problems and graduate on time.

They ate lunch in the cafeteria, where Ralph and Potsie took turns copying notes for Richie.

"You take another turn, Ralph," said Potsie. "My hand is cramping."

"Aw, but you have neater handwriting than I do."

"I'd take a turn," said Richie, "but..."

"Poor guy," said Ralph. "Okay, I'll do it, I'll do it. Rich, you milk this for all it's worth. I know I would."

"Have you gotten any sympathy dates yet?" asked Potsie.

"You dummy, he's been with us the whole time. We'd know if he had!"

"Oh, yeah."

"Excuse me—Richie?"

Richie knew the voice, and the blurry figure he saw was enough to remind him where he knew it from. "Hi. Adam, right?"

"Yeah. I just wanted to see how you're doing. It's good to see you back."

"Thanks. I'm doing all right. Fonzie told me you were doing pretty good, too."

"Yeah. He's a good guy."

"You want to sit down?"

"Oh, thanks but lunch is almost over and I don't want to bother you guys."

"Very thoughtful," put in Ralph.

Richie kicked him. "You wouldn't be a bother."

"That's okay. Thanks anyway. I'll see you later." Adam went on his way.

Richie turned his disapproving gaze on Ralph.

"What? Guy comes over to make pointless chitchat... he irks me, Richard," Ralph concluded in his most superior tone.

"And besides, he kind of annoys me," said Potsie, not realizing he was echoing Ralph's meaning.

Richie shook his head. "You two."

"That's what he said," said Ralph. "Him, too."

"Never mind. Let's get going. We've got ROTC next, right?"

"They'll probably let you sit out today, won't they? I mean, if you can't see clearly, the army wouldn't take you anyway."

"That's not the point. I don't want to get behind in my training or I'll have a lot of catching up to do when my sight comes back. I know how to follow the orders, and I can see well enough to know if I'm in step. It'll be fine."

Ralph sighed. "One of these days, you're going to learn to pick your battles. Army pun. At school, I still got it."

* * *

Joanie walked Richie home from school. Fonzie was already there, and he and Richie immediately headed upstairs to complete his assignments for the day.

"All my teachers accepted my late work," Richie reported.

"Hey, that's great. You're officially caught up."

"Yeah, and I don't have much homework for tomorrow."

"Good. We can read an extra chapter of _Deerslayer."_

"Sure. But first I have some biology to go over. There's a quiz tomorrow."

The work was done by dinnertime; after dinner, the boys immersed themselves in the world of marauding Indians and hot-headed pioneers.

"Boy," Richie said when Fonzie finished reading, "what a fix to be in... but these two chapters were sure exciting."

"Yeah. I think they were really good, too. I'd like to keep going but Abby Jones is meeting me at Inspiration Point. I gotta go."

"I understand. Good luck, Fonz."

"Ay, when you got this," Fonzie indicated himself, "you don't need luck. So keep that for yourself, Red." He ruffled Richie's hair. "Get your eyes better."

The rest of the week followed a similar pattern: school, homework, supper, reading with Fonzie. Friday they read only one chapter, because Richie had his date with Harriet.

"We're getting close to the end of the book," Fonzie said, flipping through the pages they had left as if he were shuffling a deck of cards. "It's kind of sad... they'll probably be going their separate ways soon. You think Deerslayer and Chingachgook will be together in the next book?"

"I don't know. Probably. They're practically brothers; I don't think this is the only book Cooper put Chingachgook into."

"What a crazy long name, huh? What was his pop thinking when he picked that one out?"

Richie laughed. He got up and went to his closet to choose what to wear that night. "Well, if I were Deerslayer, I'd at least make plans to meet up with Chingachgook later, even if we had to split up for a while. A dynamic duo like that shouldn't stay apart too long."

"I agree."

"At least I can see better than last time..." Richie held up his suit jacket in front of the mirror. "Striped tie?"

"What colors?"

"Red and gold."

"Eh, that'll work."

Richie had to hold up his ties and look closely to distinguish the patterns, but he could just manage it now. "I'm gonna change now, so you know."

"Okay." Fonzie stared at the wall.

Richie made the change into dress pants and a new shirt quickly.

"Okay, it's safe to face this way."

"There's a very clever comeback to that line... just can't place it right now."

"Good. I need encouragement, not sarcasm." Richie put on his tie and tugged the silk painstakingly into place. Then he shrugged on his jacket and faced Fonzie, who was still sprawled on his bed. "How do I look?"

Fonzie studied him. "You might wanna comb your hair."

Frustrated, Richie grabbed for his comb on the dresser. It spun away from him and flew across the room

Fonzie's hand shot up and caught the comb. "_NOW _it's safe to face this way," he said.*

Richie folded his arms and smirked at Fonzie. "May I have my comb back?"

Fonzie got up. "You think I'm gonna put this powerful tool in the hands of a child? Better let an expert handle this." He reached up and efficiently swiped Richie's hair into its usual honor student look. He put the comb back on the dresser. "There we go. Knock your socks off." He slow-jabbed Richie's chin.

"I should have bought something for her," Richie said, suddenly worried.

"You're taking her to a movie; you can buy her something at the concession stand."

"Oh... okay."

"Show me the kiss you're gonna lay on her."

"Now?"

Fonzie stepped over to Richie's door and locked it. "Now."

"The shades."

Fonzie went to the windows, pulled down the blinds and returned to Richie. "Now."

Richie knew he couldn't stall any more. He took a deep breath and did his best.

"Ayy, that's my boy. You've been getting solid B's all week. Now come on, Deerslayer, let's get you downstairs."

Richie rolled his eyes. _Eh, if you can't lick 'em, join 'em._ "Sure, Chingachgook."

* * *

Fonzie had his own date Friday night, which was unusual for him (Amateur Night, he called it); it lasted well into Saturday morning. So, he was not exactly thrilled when someone knocking on his door woke him up before noon.

"Fonzie, are you still in there?"

Fonzie buried his head under a pillow. "Not now, Red. Don't you know better than to disturb a guy in the middle of the night?"

"It's almost noon."

"In the middle of the noon," Fonzie corrected himself.

"I just wanted to tell you about my date and to tell you mom's making vegetable stew for lunch."

Fonzie peeked out from under the pillow. "Mrs. C is making vegetable stew? ...Red?"

"I'm still here."

Fonzie stretched and reached up to hit a joist with practiced precision.

"What was that?"

"Should be unlocked now. Come inside."

Richie entered, looking confused. "Did you just... unlock the door...?"

Fonzie yawned and nodded. "Uh-huh."

"Wow, Fonz... you're in your Lone Ranger PJ's."

"It was a wild ride last night. How was your date?"

"Outstanding." Richie sat on the edge of Fonzie's bed. "We saw _An Affair to Remember._"

Fonzie sat up, suddenly more awake. "Oh, Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr! Great choice, Rich. Although, you run the risk of her crying... did she cry?"

"I think she might have. But she held my hand."

"Great start. How was the good night kiss?"

Richie smiled a crooked little smile and laughed, "Huh, huh, ha..."

"Oh, that good, huh? I am proud of you." Fonzie got up and headed to his closet for a pair of jeans and a tee shirt. "How blurry is your vision today?"

"About the same as yesterday. Sizes, shapes colors... I get an idea of all that stuff, but still not much detail."

"Okay. I guess you can stay, but you face the wall."

Realization spread over Richie's face. "Oh, I'll go if you want me to."

"Nah, just stay right there. I'll be ready in a flash."

Fonzie was glad that Richie couldn't see detail—when he got to the mirror, he found not one, but _two_ hairs out of place. A quick combing took care of that; then he was set.

"Veggie stew, here we come."

"Do you have a date for tonight?" Richie asked on the way out.

"Always."

"Oh."

"Not officially, though. Just on standby."

"Ah. Well, I was thinking. Today's Saturday. I don't have much to get done over the weekend. I can have it all done before dinner. Then we could build a fire in the back yard and roast marshmallows and read _Deerslayer."_

"You think your dad would let us build a fire in the back yard?"

"Sure. I went to summer camp. I learned outdoor skills."

"So did I, but I still don't know if Mr. C will trust us with matches. What if he wants to build it himself?"

"Worse, what if he wants to hang out with us," Richie muttered. "Nah, don't worry. It'll be fine. It's worth asking, right?"

"Sure. You can ask at dinner. I'll soften him up, and you strike when you sense he's in a good mood."

"Good plan, scout."

"You calling me a horse?"

"No... I meant like Indian scout."

"Oh. Cause Scout is the name of Tonto's horse, you know."

"I forgot."

"Don't let it happen again."

* * *

At dinner, Howard was agreeable to Richie's suggestion. "A fire, huh? Sure, you can use some firewood from the garage. Just don't stay out there too long or you'll get frostbit."

"If we make a nice big fire, we won't," Richie said.

"Oh, no, I think I need you to keep it small. I don't feel like making any major renovations to the house."

"Dad."

"That's okay," said Fonzie. "A small fire is better than nothing. When it gets too cold, we can go up to my apartment and use a lantern."

"That sounds like fun," said Joanie. "Can I come?"

"This is for tribe members only," Richie told her. "No squaws."

"Aw, that's not fair! Dad, can't I sit around the fire with them?"

"We'll do something with you tomorrow, Shortcake," said Fonzie.

Richie felt Fonzie nudge his ankle under the table. "Oh, sure," Richie said quickly. "We'll take you to Arnold's for lunch, and we'll each dance a song with you. How about that?"

Joanie put her elbows on the table and her head in her hands. "I think I'd rather be a squaw."

"Now, Joanie," said Marion, "I have an idea. While the braves have their council fire outside, you and I can roast our own marshmallows in the fireplace. And we can read something fun like _Black Beauty _or _Little Women."_

"That's a good compromise," said Howard. "We can make s'mores and everything."

Marion looked at him sharply. "I'm sorry, Howard, but the fireplace party is for squaws only."

"But this is my wigwam!"

"You can have the kitchen, Mr. C," said Fonzie. "Roast your marshies over the toaster." He laughed.

"A fine thing—the chief spurned by both braves and squaws. It's enough to make a man want to start a new tribe altogether."

* * *

Fonzie made a pile of firewood next to the campfire site and settled to the task of strategically stacking kindling. The air was already chilly, and the sun was setting, so he tried to work quickly. When he lit the pile of shavings at the bottom of his construction, they lit quickly in a bright blaze; then the flames settled to grow slowly and steadily.

"Great job, Fonz," Richie said, putting his hands out toward the fire.

"What can I say? I'm gifted." Fonzie found their place in the book. "Only seven chapters left."

"We should read them all tonight."

"All of them? Nah... you think we could?"

"If your voice holds out."

"If my voice holds out? The Fonz has stamina. I can read aloud for hours... I was just wondering if you could stay awake."

"I will if you will."

So, Fonzie started reading. By the time he finished one chapter, the sun was down and he was finding it hard to read by only firelight. Richie was starting to feel cold, too. His face, hands and knees were hot from the fire, but the rest of him was shivering badly.

"Let's put the fire out," Richie said. "I'd rather be inside now. We'll have to do this again in the summer sometime."

"Yeah." Fonzie kicked the half-burned chunks of wood apart and the flames quickly went out. Then he stomped on the embers until there was nothing left of the fire but a few tiny coals and a stream of smoke. "That'll do. Everything's damp out here, so I don't think we have to worry about something catching fire."

"Okay." Richie popped one last marshmallow into his mouth. "Fink I'll bush ma teef before we go up t' your pace."

Fonzie blinked. "Say what?"

Richie swallowed. "I'm gonna go in and brush my teeth."

"Good idea. Say good night to the other C's for me."

Richie took the leftover marshmallows inside and put them away. When he came out into the living room, Marion and Joanie were sitting on the couch, and Marion was reading _Black Beauty._ Joanie looked very sleepy.

"I'm gonna get ready for bed and then go up to the apartment to read a little more," Richie announced.

"Oh, Richard, it's getting a little late. Why don't you just stay over and make a night of it?"

"I could, I guess. But I haven't asked Fonzie."

"I don't think he'll mind. And if he does, you can just come back over here and go straight to bed, can't you?"

"Okay." Richie gave his mother a kiss. "Good night, mom." He looked at Joanie. "Don't get too attached to Ginger."

"Richie!"

As he headed up the stairs, he heard Joanie moan, "Aw, mom, does Ginger die?"

Soon he was back in pajamas, and with a spare blanket and pillow over his shoulder. He grabbed his jacket and somehow put it on while awkwardly shifting his bedding around.

"See you in the morning," he said.

"Good night, dear," said Marion.

"Book spoiler," Joanie muttered.

When he got to the apartment, Fonzie looked him over and said, "Staying the night?"

"If you don't mind. It was mom's idea."

"I don't mind." Fonzie set up his lantern by the couch bed and thumped his fist against the wall. The overhead light went out. "Make yourself at home."

Richie spread out his bedding and got between his blanket and Fonzie's covers, just as Fonzie had when he stayed in Richie's room. Fonzie climbed in beside him and began to read again.

The action in chapter twenty-seven was very exciting, and Fonzie moved straight into the next without stopping. At the end of twenty-eight, Richie was starting to feel sleepy, but Deerslayer was in such a fix that there was no way he wanted to stop there.

"Wish I could take a turn reading," Richie said with a yawn.

"That's okay. I'm just gonna get a drink of water." Fonzie got up and padded over to the sink in his slippers.

Richie took the opportunity to shift position, stretching out toward the middle of the bed.

Fonzie returned with his glass and got back into bed. He looked at Richie and then at himself. "Either I'm gaining weight, or this bed is getting smaller," he commented.

"Sorry..." Richie moved back.

"Nah, that's okay. Come here." Fonzie put an arm around Richie and scooped him closer. "Ready for the torture scene?"

"Ready when you are."

Fonzie resumed his reading. The Mingo Indians had the hero tied to a tree and were throwing tomahawks and firing guns at him to test his nerve. Richie couldn't remember being so excited about any book before. As the tension rose, he found himself rolling slowly toward Fonzie and slipping an arm around his waist. Fonzie didn't notice or didn't care; he was concentrating on reading the story as quickly as he could without stumbling over the words.

Rescue attempts followed fast and furious, but it was Chingachgook who ultimately freed Deerslayer near the end of the thirtieth chapter. Richie smiled at this satisfying development. He snuggled in against Fonzie, and instead of being shoved away, he felt Fonzie's hand rubbing his shoulder.

"Two chapters left," Fonzie announced. "What do you think?"

Richie stifled another yawn. "I think I want to keep going."

"You sure? You're wilting on me, Red."

"I'm sure." Richie shifted and tried to wake himself up a little.

"Here." Fonzie gripped him around the ribcage and pulled him up so Richie's head could rest on his shoulder. "How's that?"

"Good."

"All right." He resumed reading. His voice started to go up in pitch as he read the account of a principle character's death.

"Fonz, are you okay?"

"Course I'm okay! It's just my voice is gettin' tired, you know?" Fonzie took a drink of water as if to prove his point.

Richie pressed his face against the soft flannel of Fonzie's striped pajamas. He knew the tough guy was full of emotion under his bravado. "It's all right. You always have to lose a character in the great stories. It makes them more realistic."

"Well, real stinks. That's what you read books for." He went on with the story.

Finally the chapter was over; there was only one left.

"Man, I really wanted him to marry that girl," Fonzie said.

"You have to remember, Cooper wrote this one last, even though it came first. And Deerslayer isn't married in the books that come after, so he couldn't get married in this one."

"Sure, I know. But what's he have to toy with us for?"

Fonzie's complaints were typical of the side of him that few people got to see. Rich laid a kiss on his friend's collarbone. Then he realized what he'd done and waited for hell to break loose. Instead, he felt a return kiss on top of his head.

_Huh. I wonder if I'm in some magical safe zone where I can get away with anything..._ He decided to test his theory by giving Fonzie a squeeze. This time, Fonzie responded by rubbing Richie's shoulders. _So far, so good..._ He gathered his courage and kissed Fonzie's neck.

Fonzie leaned down and kissed Richie on the lips. It was different from the "practice" kisses Fonzie had given him before. It didn't have that instructor feel, but it did have something like real affection in it. Not the kind any girl had ever given him... it was hard to place. It made him feel warm inside.

_Duration... a tiny bit of intensity. Not very creative, though. _"Fonzie?"

"Hm?"

Richie cleared his throat. "Uh, can I ask you something?"

"Mhm."

"What exactly is this?"

"It's historical fiction. They got a whole section at the library."

"No, not the book. I mean... the kissing and stuff. You don't kiss any of the other guys you know. Do you?" he added suddenly, realizing that if no one knew Fonzie had kissed him, he might be keeping similar secrets from Richie.

"Very astute, Red. No, I don't kiss any other guys. You're a special case."

"Okay... what kind of 'case' am I?"

"You're a project. A stud in training..."

"We weren't in training just now, were we?"

Fonzie sighed. "All right, I admit—I may have kissed you just because I like having you here, and I... wanted to let you know without spelling it out. So now you've dragged it out of me and defeated the purpose."

"Well, there's nothing wrong with it..."

"I know that. So, if you know that, why are we having this conversation?"

"I just want to make sure I'm not reading things wrong."

"You only read things wrong because your eyes aren't better yet."

Richie blinked. Fonzie had somehow seamlessly changed the subject. _I wonder if he even meant to do that._ "Fonzie... I just want to know if we're still friends like before, or...?"

"Or what?"

"...or something else," Richie said evasively.

"We're still friends like before. Maybe a little better than that... but if you're afraid I'm starting to think of you like Adam Milton was thinking of me, don't worry. It's not that at all."

"I just want to know what it _is."_

Fonzie took his arm from around Richie and turned away from him. "Look, a couple weeks ago, you said I was like a brother, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I never had any brothers or sisters, so I'm sorry if I stepped over any boundaries, but almost all the practice I've had for this kind of thing has been with chicks. And don't forget, I'm Italian. Italians kiss family a lot."

"Uh... not like this, though."

"Okay, maybe not. But you're a friend _and_ family, you know? It makes it..."

"A special case?"

"Yeah."

Richie waited, but Fonzie didn't say any more. Tentatively, he put his arm back around Fonzie. "I think I understand... I didn't mean to upset you."

"Who's upset?" Fonzie snapped. "I just got too warm, that's all."

"Uh-huh. Are you cool enough now?"

"I am _always_ cool enough."

Richie rolled his eyes.

"So, uh... you want to finish the book?"

"Let's save the last chapter for tomorrow."

"What happened to finishing it tonight?"

"It's really late..."

"It's not even two o'clock yet."

"Wow... it _is_ late."

"Fine." Fonzie set the book on his bedside table. Then he shifted toward Richie and put his arm back around him. "So, you're not sore?"

"No. I think it's pretty cool to be a special case."

"You still can't tell anyone."

"I know. No one else would get it." Richie settled his head on Fonzie's shoulder again. "Good night, Fonz."

"Night, kid."

* * *

_I think I want to keep it shounen ai and not go full-out slash. Since I don't have much feedback, I guess I can do whatever suits my fancy. xp  
_


	16. Brothers Don't Smooch

_Keep in mind that it's the 50's. ^_-_

* * *

**Brothers Don't Smooch  
**

* * *

Fonzie was still holding him when Richie woke up. Bright sunlight was streaming through the windows. They had slept late. Richie yawned and stretched a little. He blinked and looked around the room. Everything seemed brighter and clearer. He looked at Fonzie's face and saw that he was still asleep, jaw slack, but amazingly not drooling. He could see the stubble on Fonzie's chin.

He could see the stubble on Fonzie's chin.

_I can see the stubble..._ "I can see his stubble," Richie said aloud. "Fonzie!" He shook Fonzie's shoulder.

"Someone's grabbing the Fonz," Fonzie said, suddenly awake and cranky.

"Fonzie, it's morning."

"Well, la-dee-da. Tell it to the birds."

"Fonzie, wake up."

"I am awake. That's the problem."

Richie took Fonzie's head in his hands and their eyes locked. Fonzie had a very dangerous look.

"This had better be good, Cunningham," he growled. Then his expression softened and turned to excitement. "Wait a minute... can you see me?"

"From the hair out of place to the stubble on your chin!"

"That's great! Wait! There's a hair out of place?" Fonzie flung back the covers and started to get up, but Richie pulled him back.

"Wait, Fonz, don't worry about that. I can see!"

"Yeah, you're right... can you see enough to fix it?"

Richie carefully grasped the rogue hair and tucked it back into place. "There. Perfect."

Fonzie smiled. "Thanks." He stroked Richie's face. "I'm so glad. Hey, you can read the last chapter of _Deerslayer _to me."

"Yeah."

Fonzie grabbed the book and held it in front of him. "What do you see?"

"Chapter thirty-two."

"Chapter thirty-two!" Fonzie echoed. He tossed the book aside and pulled Richie into a kiss.

Caught up in Fonzie's enthusiasm, Richie kissed him back, not worrying about the terms of their relationship at the moment. Fonzie's hand slipped down onto his chest, and he felt a hot chill. When he felt Fonzie's tongue on his lip, he opened his mouth enough to try the same move. Then the tip of Fonzie's tongue was in his mouth. _Crimany, what next?_

But then it was over, and Fonzie was smiling down at him. "Red, I think you just made your first A."

"Really?"

"Really."

Richie grinned. Then he heard something from outside. "What was that?"

"I dunno. Stay put." Fonzie got up and pulled on his bathrobe on the way to the door. He stepped outside a moment and then returned. "Rich, are your parents home?"

Richie tried to remember. It was Sunday... "What time is it?"

"About ten forty-five."

"Dad was meeting some lodge brothers for a brunch meeting or something... and I think mom's visiting mother Kelp."

"Good; we've got time."

"Time for what?"

"To talk Joanie out of telling them what she just saw through the window."

Richie's blood ran cold. "Joanie?"

"Yeah, I just saw her scurrying back into the house as if... as if she'd just seen her brother kiss another guy."

"Aw, crimany."

"Yeah. Think she'll listen?"

"I could bribe her."

"I could threaten her."

"We could beg."

"I don't beg."

"Right. Uh... we'll think of something."

"Well, think fast, Cunningham. Your parents won't be gone all day."

"Yeah, you're right." Richie got up and hurriedly folded his blanket and stacked it on top of his pillow. "I guess I'll mostly tell her the truth, and try to spin it in a way that will make her less eager to tell anyone. And if that doesn't work..."

"If that doesn't work, I'll leave town."

"Aw, don't say that."

"I ain't joking."

Grimly, Richie carried his bedding down to the house and inside.

Joanie was sitting on the couch with _Black Beauty,_ turning the pages slowly. She didn't look up when he came in.

_Clearly playing nonchalant. She saw, all right._ He cleared his throat. "Joanie?"

Joanie looked up with a look of surprise. "Oh, there you are, Richie."

"Yeah... here I am."

Richie dropped his bedding on the couch and sat beside her. She went back to turning pages. He took the book from her. "You can stop pretending, Joanie."

"What do you mean, pretending?"

"I know you were spying on me and Fonzie."

"That's not true! I just went up to see if you guys were going to take me to Arnold's for lunch... it's not my fault you were... doing something you didn't want me to see." Joanie blushed.

"The only reason we didn't want anyone to see is because we knew they would flip out like this."

"I'm not flipping out. Jenny Piccolo told me some boys would rather kiss each other than kiss girls, and I didn't believe her, but now I guess I owe her an apology, that's all."

"No. You're not going to talk about this to anyone, above all, not _Jenny Piccolo!"_

"Why not?"

"Because they wouldn't understand. They'd think Fonzie and I had some weird, perverted romance going on, and that's not true."

"Well, what is it, then?"

Richie chose his words carefully. "Since Fonzie's been helping me through this blindness, we've gotten really close. We were good friends before, but now we're more like brothers..."

"Brothers don't smooch," Joanie pointed out.

"No... not normally. But Fonzie's been helping me get my confidence back so I could date again... Harriet's kind of above my usual league—"

"Harriet's above your whole usual sport," Joanie snorted.

"Oh, cut it out. The point is, Fonzie's been giving me some tips."

"Tips, huh? That's not how my geography teacher gives us tips on studying."

"Look, when you're older you'll understand that dating isn't kids' stuff. It can be complicated, and if you've got some sort of handicap, you need all the pointers you can get."

"So, the two of you were making out in Fonzie's bed so you can have a better date? I don't think I'm buying this, Richie. And I know dad won't."

"You can't tell dad. You don't want Fonzie to have to move out, do you?"

"Well... no."

"We'll take you to Arnold's, just like I promised. We'll pretend this whole thing never happened. Please."

Fonzie let himself in the front door. "So... Shortcake, you ready to go to Arnold's?" he asked briskly.

Joanie looked from one to the other. "I don't know about this."

"Richie, what did you tell her?"

"I told her the truth... that you'd been teaching me how to kiss better," Richie explained.

"Oh, yeah."

"That true?" asked Joanie.

"It's true."

"But you don't want anyone to know."

"Hey, if word got out, everyone in the state would be lined up at my door for lessons. I gotta budget my time, you understand? I've got girls to date and cars to fix, and this guy to coach." He indicated Richie. "You see how it is. So you won't let our secret out, right?"

"Well... on one condition."

"What's that?"

"I want to see a demonstration."

"A... dema..." Fonzie glanced at Richie. "Why?"

"Oh, you know, I might learn something. Dating isn't kids' stuff, you know. I might need some tips if Spike or someone tries to kiss me anytime soon."

"Don't you let _anyone_ kiss you yet, young lady," Richie commanded.

"You're not my boss, Richie Cunningham. And right now, I don't think you've got room to argue about this. Do we have a deal, or not?"

Richie looked at Fonzie. As it was, they really didn't stand to lose much by accepting Joanie's offer, or so it seemed.

"All right," said Fonzie. "Conditions are, you don't tell anyone, _ever,_ and we take you to Arnold's for lunch."

"Right." Joanie held out her hand, and Fonzie shook it.

"Okay. Cunningham, front and center."

Richie planted himself in front of Fonzie, already feeling a blush at the thought of Joanie witnessing this. Still, he didn't mind getting another kiss.

Fonzie scooped him a little closer with one hand at the back of Richie's neck. He pressed their mouths together, and they got about the B-level results that Richie had been getting in his recent lessons.

They were just coming apart when Richie heard a voice that seemed to send an electric shock through him.

"Jiminy crickets! What is going on here?!"

The cat was out of the bag. Life as Richie knew it was over. His parents had come in the back, and there they were in the kitchen doorway, gawking.

"Oh, my gosh..." Richie muttered involuntarily under his breath as his mind raced, trying to come up with a story his parents would swallow, or at least one that would keep them from killing him and evicting Fonzie.

"This is not what it looks like," Fonzie declared.

"No?" said Howard, voice still at a strong volume. "Because what it looks like is some pervert kissing my son while my little girl watches. Now, am I close, or is it actually a tea party?"

"Oh, Howard," Marion whimpered, sinking into a chair at the dining table.

"Joanie, go up to your room."

"But dad!" Joanie protested.

"You heard me, young lady! Marion, go up with her. I don't want any more damage done here than necessary."

"But Howard... what are you going to—"

"Now, Marion!"

Marion squeaked and scurried across the room to take Joanie by the wrist and drag her protesting up the stairs.

"Mr. C," said Fonzie, slowly and deliberately, "I understand you're upset—"

"Upset!" Howard exclaimed. "Ha!"

"—but you should not talk to Mrs. C that way," Fonzie finished.

_"You_ are telling _me_ what I should or shouldn't do?" Howard asked.

Richie shuddered at the menacing tone. It was the same tone Howard had used the one and only time he'd taken a belt to Richie. This couldn't end well.

"I find you in my home, kissing my son as if he were one of those whores you have parading in and out of your apartment! And you tell me how to talk to my wife! Get out of my house. Get out!"

Richie had never heard his father say "whore" in his entire life. The fear building in his stomach doubled.

Fonzie blinked slowly. "I do not pay the young ladies who frequent my apartment—I am reward enough. Now..." he turned to Richie. "I'm sorry, Richie, but I have to go." He shook Richie's hand firmly. "You know where to find me."

"Bye, Fonz," Richie said, thinking to himself, _I'll never see him again. I'm dead._

Fonzie let himself out the front door.

Howard hurried across to the door, opened it again, shouted, "And don't come back!" and slammed it.

Richie winced. When he opened his eyes again, his father was standing in front of him. There was no escape.

"Richie, sit down."

_Dead man walking,_ Richie thought to himself as he went back to the couch and sat down.

"Oh, Richard, I don't understand this."

_And you never will,_ Richie thought glumly.

"Your mother and I did our best to raise you right... where did we go wrong?"

"You didn't 'go wrong,' dad... you think Fonzie's loose ways with women turned into a loose way with guys, and it's rubbed off on me?"

"That's certainly how it seems."

"But that's ridiculous."

"I catch you kissing a boy—a man—and you think I'm the ridiculous one?"

"He's not a pervert."

"I'm not sure you understand what that means."

"Sure, I do."

"It's not bad enough he's kissing my seventeen-year-old son, but doing it in front of my little girl... how can you defend that? I don't know what we're going to tell Joanie."

"You don't have to tell her anything. She gets it a lot better than you do."

"Don't take that tone with me, young man."

Richie flinched, half expecting to be slapped.

Howard spoke again, a little softer. "I don't like having to be so firm with you, Richie, but of all the things that I thought I could handle... I never thought I'd have to deal with this. I'm not sure what to do... except ground you for now. No dates, and no hanging out after school."

"But dad—what will I tell the guys?"

"Tell them you're grounded and you don't want to talk about it."

"That will drive Ralph nuts. He'll come over here trying to figure it out."

"I don't care. You're grounded and that's that."

"For how long?"

"Until I decide that you're not."

"We were going to take Joanie to Arnold's..."

"You're not going anywhere. And she's not going anywhere with Fonzie. I don't want either of you seeing him or talking to him, you understand me?"

"You can't do that!"

"I'm your father!"

Richie couldn't argue with that statement. Meekly, he said, "I left your book in Fonzie's apartment... can I at least go get it back?"

"What's it doing up there?"

"Didn't mom tell you? After we put the fire out, we went up there to read."

Howard looked at the pillow and blanket on the couch, and realization spread over his face. "You spent the night up there."

"Yeah."

Before Howard could think of anything to say to that, someone knocked on the door. He got up and opened it to reveal Fonzie on the doorstep, dressed in his usual jeans, tee shirt and leather jacket.

_He must have changed fast,_ Richie thought.

"I thought I told you not to come back," said Howard.

Fonzie held out _T__he Deerslayer._ "Richie forgot this."

Howard took the book. "Come inside a minute, Fonzie; I want to talk to you."

Fonzie looked around the room and stepped inside. "I got nothin' better to do," he declared. He glanced at Richie. "Looks like one of 'em got a tomahawk pretty close to your head there, Deerslayer."

"Richard, go upstairs, please. I want to talk to Fonzie alone."

Richie looked uncertainly at Fonzie, who gave him a subtle nod. "Okay..." He picked up his pillow and blanket and headed for the stairs. "He didn't do anything wrong, dad."

"That's enough, son." Howard waited until Richie was out of hearing.

* * *

Fonzie had an idea of what to expect. Fathers had given him serious speeches when they caught him doing various things with their daughters. But he had never expected to have this conversation with Howard. He didn't like the idea at all.

Howard paced the room, thumping the _Deerslayer_ against his hand. "Fonzie, I understand Richie spent the night in your apartment."

Clinging to the idea that honesty was the best policy, Fonzie answered, "Yes, he did."

"Did he sleep in your bed?"

"Yes, he did."

"Did _you_ sleep in your bed?"

"Yes, I did."

Howard halted and twisted the book in his hands to the point that it looked like he was trying to tear it. Then he looked Fonzie in the eye. "Did you touch him?"

Fonzie folded his arms over his chest. "Mr. C, I've got a lot of respect for you, you understand? I'd appreciate it if you'd talk to me man to man. You want to know if I touched Richie in a sexual way—that's what you're asking, right?"

"All right, yes. That's what I'm asking."

Fonzie unfolded his arms and went to stand inches away from Howard, returning his gaze steadily. "No. I did not."

Howard seemed to deflate like a balloon in his relief. "All right... I believe you."

"I should hope so. That's the truth. I know that besides neither one of us wanting that, it also happens to be illegal in this state. Why would I want to do anything to hurt Richie? I love him like he was my own brother."

"Brothers don't smooch. Now, overall, you've been a good tenant, and I don't want to leave you in the lurch, so I'll give you some time to find a new place. Say a day or two. Well, three or four. A week, if you need it."

"Find a new place?" Fonzie repeated. "I just told you nothing happened, and you're throwing me out?"

"But something _did_ happen, Fonzie. Marion and I both saw it right here in our living room—and Joanie too, for gosh sakes! I have to draw the line here; you've gone too far."

Fonzie stepped back and looked around the cozy room, wondering if he'd ever see it again. "Did Richie tell you why I kissed him?"

"Why? No, I don't think that's very important as far as letting him see you is concerned. The point is that it happened, and I can't risk it happening again."

"Right. Of course." Fonzie glanced at the stairway. "Can I at least say goodbye to him?"

Howard took his time considering. "Well, maybe it is better if he hears it from you," he said at last. "Richard," he called, "come back down here, please."

Richie looked positively sick when he came down the stairs.

After an awkward silence, Fonzie said, "Rich, your father wants me to... to avoid you and Joanie... not to see you two anymore. But that's going to be kind of difficult with me living over the garage..."

"Don't go, Fonzie," Richie blurted out. "Please."

"I gotta go. I just got my eviction notice."

"Dad, you can't make him leave. It's not fair! It's as much my fault as his—"

Fonzie snapped his fingers and Richie fell silent. "I said I gotta go, Red. Now, listen..." His eyes fell on the book in Howard's hands. "I hate that I'm not going to be able to finish that book with you. You know, Deerslayer's gonna have to meet Chingachgook back at that rabbit warren by the mouth of the cave where the warriors always eat before they go on the warpath... and I was really looking forward to seeing what happened."

"I don't remember that part," Howard muttered, looking at the book's introduction page.

Fortunately, Richie grasped that Fonzie was giving him a secret message. "Yeah... he'll go when it gets dark so the Mingos don't catch him. I don't want to finish it without you."

"I know, but now that you can read again, you don't need me anyway."

"You can read again?" Howard asked.

"Yeah," said Richie, unable to muster any cheerfulness over it. "We found out this morning."

"Anyway," said Fonzie, holding out his hand, "I gotta go. I'm sorry I got you into trouble."

Richie took Fonzie's hand and held it tightly. "It's not your fault."

Fonzie turned away quickly, not wanting to drag it out. He paused at the door to tell Howard, "Don't forget to apologize to Mrs. C."

When he had closed the door behind him, he heard Howard exclaim, "The nerve of that guy!"

* * *

_Oh, no! What will Richie do without Fonzie? (Yes, I'm being melodramatic on purpose, to make up for the lack of reviews.) Find out next time.  
_


	17. The Last Chapter

_This is not the last chapter of this story. That's just the title. ^_-_

* * *

**The Last Chapter  
**

* * *

Howard did apologize to Marion, but that was little consolation to Richie. His friend was gone, and he might never see him again... after tonight. He waited anxiously for it to get dark outside. He switched on his radio but he couldn't take an interest in it. Finally, it was dark enough. He left the radio playing at a low volume, tucked _The Deerslayer_ into his waistband, and opened his window.

The tree outside was close enough that he could lean out and get a hold on a good, strong branch—Ralph had climbed up the tree to Richie's window many a time. Once he was out the window, he could wrap his legs around the trunk and let himself down to the ground. Then he set off.

The "rabbit warren" and "mouth of the cave" obviously meant Warren "Potsie" Weber and Ralph "Mouth" Malph. The place the warriors ate before going on the warpath—the place he, Potsie and Ralph were most often together: Arnold's.

Richie hadn't sneaked out in over a year, and he hadn't been out alone at night since his blindness. It felt sort of exciting, but he still had a heavy weight in his stomach. _How could dad think so badly of Fonzie? How could he tell him he has to move? They can't keep me from seeing him. I can move out and get a job. Then they can't tell me what to do anymore._

He had just decided that this was a good plan when he arrived at Arnold's. Potsie and Ralph were seated at their usual booth.

"Hey, Richie," said Ralph. "You come by yourself?"

"Yeah, I'm seeing a lot better now. What are you guys doing here so late?"

"We're trying to come up with a plan to convince my dad to let Potsie stay the night at my place."

"My dad locked me out again," Potsie explained.

"Why don't you call home and tell your folks you're locked out?" asked Richie.

"Nah. I don't want to give them the satisfaction."

"Listen, is Fonzie around?"

"Yeah, he's in his office," said Ralph. "But he said he doesn't want to be disturbed. He made us go to the gas station to use the restroom."

"Thanks." Richie headed for the men's room.

"You're a brave man, Richie," Potsie called after him.

Fonzie was leaning on the wall of the restroom, near the phone. Richie wasn't sure what to expect when Fonzie saw him, but it wasn't what he got: being rushed and smothered in a crushing hug.

"Fonzie... I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. It's my ff..." Fonzie, as usual, had difficulty taking any blame.

"My dad was really unfair to you. He wouldn't even give us a chance to explain anything."

Fonzie let go of Richie and went to lean against a sink. "Have you been able to talk to him since I left?"

"No... I was too mad, really. I just stayed in my room all day."

"Did you eat?"

"Mom brought me a little dinner."

"Is she very upset?"

"Yeah... we haven't talked about it, though. I want to, but I don't know what to tell her."

"This is all wrong."

"I know."

Fonzie made a fist and thumped it against the sink in frustration. The sink next to him began to drizzle. Distractedly, he shut it off. "Are you mad at me, Rich?"

"Me? No."

"Okay. That's good."

"They can't keep us apart—they didn't tonight, and they won't ever. You just get me your new number and address once you're settled, and I'll keep in touch with you every day."

"You can't do that, Red."

"Why not?"

"Because... they're your family."

"You're my family, too!"

"No, I'm not. I'm the guy who lives over your garage. If I were family, Mr. C would have grounded us both, but he's kicking me out. You don't do that to family—not if you l..." Again, Fonzie couldn't finish his sentence. "Listen, they may be tough on you, but they love you. You won't have 'em forever, so you be a good kid and listen to them and someday when they're ready to let you make your own choices, then you can look me up again."

Richie shook his head, unable to answer. _I can't wait that long._

After a moment, Fonzie asked, "Did you bring the book?"

"Yeah, I got it right here." Richie got the book out and leaned against the sink next to Fonzie's.

Fonzie looked at the book. "Well, maybe... someday, when we get together again, we can read that last chapter."

"I want to read it now. If we can't see each other for a long time, I don't want to wait."

"Okay. Go ahead."

Richie opened the book to the last chapter. The words were a little difficult to make out, sometimes going a little blurry, but he took his time. It was more of an epilogue than a proper chapter. Deerslayer, now known as Hawkeye, returned with Chingachgook to the site of their adventures fifteen years later. The land seemed completely untouched and beautiful. Judith, rejected by Deerslayer, had turned back to wicked ways. It was a bittersweet ending.

Near the end of his reading, someone started to enter the restroom.

"Use the gas station," Fonzie ordered, "can't you see we're tryin' to read in here?"

The intruder, who turned out to be Arnold, answered, "I came to say I about to close. Why I tell that to the gas station?" He left, muttering to himself.

When he finished reading, Richie looked at the last few words for a moment and then closed the book. "Fonzie?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't want to wait fifteen years before you and I can meet again. And I don't want to wait so long that Milwaukee has completely changed, or Arnold's isn't here anymore... I want my friend with me, so we can see it change together."

Fonzie pulled Richie's head down onto his shoulder. "I keep thinking none of this would have happened if you hadn't got hurt."

"Well, we can't change it now. Look, don't move out yet. I'll talk to my folks and try to work something out, okay?"

"You can try, but remember what I said. Don't give up your family for me, understand?"

Richie tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

"Understand?" Fonzie repeated.

"Yeah." Richie felt a kiss on the top of his head.

"Come on, let's let Arnold lock up."

As they came out of the restroom, Arnold said, "Oh, take your time. I just let you lock up—you might as well own this place anyway..."

"Sorry, Arnold," said Richie. "It won't happen again." He hated to think how true those words might be.

* * *

Fonzie had brought Richie's helmet along. Neither of them said anything when they got to the bike; Richie put on his helmet and got on. Fonzie started the bike and they were off.

He wanted to go fast, to get a good rush to take his mind off things, but he also wanted to make this ride last. They might not get to do this again.

Richie was holding on in a firm hug, one arm around Fonzie's ribs and the other hand up on his chest. It was a girly way to hold on, but Fonzie thought Richie probably wanted to spread out the contact—make every inch count, as well as every second.

All too soon, they were back on Clinton Avenue. Fonzie let the motorcycle coast to a stop. "We're about a block away," he told Richie over the purr of the motor. "We better arrive separately, in case your folks are still up."

"Yeah," Richie agreed. He got off the bike and handed his helmet back to Fonzie. Then he hugged his friend tightly. "Goodbye, Chingachgook."

Fonzie ran his hand over the soft hair at the back of Richie's head, careful to be gentle on the area that had hit the pool's edge. "Hang in there, Deerslayer."

He let go and sped away into the night, telling himself that it was just the wind in his face making his eyes misty.

He didn't go straight home. He didn't want to go back to an empty apartment and think about what his life would be like without Richie in it. Richie had been his first real friend. Other friends had come in behind Richie, but they might leave if Richie did. He tried to push those thoughts away, riding faster and faster. He knew he should be careful out in the dark, but forgetting was more important. Forgetting everything but the cool night wind and the miles speeding by.

Finally, he rolled back into the Cunninghams' driveway. He cut the engine and prepared to go up to his apartment and fall into bed. The living room light was on in the house... so was the parents' bedroom light. _Well, it's none of my business,_ he told himself.

Then the door opened and there was Howard's silhouette.

"Fonzie, is that you?"

_Of course it is,_ Fonzie thought irritably, but he answered, "Yeah, it's me."

"Would you come inside, please?"

Going into the house wasn't high on his to-do list at the moment, but Fonzie decided to oblige.

Marion was sitting inside. She jumped up when she saw Fonzie and hurried over to him.

"Oh, Arthur, is Richie with you?"

Fonzie looked over his shoulder as if to check. "No... Richie's not with me. Why? Haven't you locked him in his room or something?"

"He was in his room," said Howard "—not locked there, but in there. I went to check on him about an hour ago and he wasn't there. I think he climbed out the window."

"Well, if he climbed out, he's probably planning to climb back in. When's the last time you checked?"

"About five minutes ago."

"Really?" Suddenly, Fonzie began to worry. Richie should have been back by now. "Well, uh... listen, I'll go take a look for him, and if he's not back in half an hour, then you call the police. Just remember, he might not come in by the front door."

"Be careful," said Marion.

"I will, Mrs. C."

"If you're near a phone, call when you find him," said Howard.

Fonzie nodded and ducked back out the door. This wasn't part of the plan. _Where are you, kid? Why didn't you come home?_

* * *

Richie didn't feel like going home. He knew he would be exhausted at school the next day, but he didn't care. Nothing seemed to matter much, now that he was facing life without Fonzie. There would be no one to defend him from bullies, no one to help him with homework, no one to fix up his car, no one to give him advice, no one to keep him from making a fool of himself, no one to make him feel special...

Richie kicked a crumpled beer can as he turned down an alley away from the route home. _I'll stay out really late,_ he decided. _That'll show 'em. _Of course, not much was open so late, so there wasn't much he could do.

As he reached the far end of the alley, someone stepped out in front of him.

"Hey, you. What are you doing here?"

Richie halted. "Me? Oh, just out for a stroll." He whistled nervously. "Well, I'd better be going." He turned around to find two more figures behind him. Turning back to the first guy, he saw that there were now three teenaged boys in front of him.

"You're on our turf," the first guy said.

"Come on now," Richie said in an appeasing tone. "You can't own an alley or a sidewalk... they're city property."

The boy flicked open a switchblade knife.

"But then again," Richie backpedaled, "possession is nine tenths of ownership."

"Do you know who you're talking to?"

"Judging by your jacket, you're a Demon."

"I happen to be the _leader _of the Demons."

"So... I guess that makes you Satan," Richie said. He laughed nervously.

"Oh, you wish."

Richie summoned his bravado. "Well, listen... bucko. Ordinarily, I'd clean your clock, but it so happens I don't really need this alley, so I guess I don't mind letting you have it."

"Aw, isn't that swell, fellas?" the leader mocked. "Well, it just so happens that I'm willing to let you off the hook on one condition."

"What's that?" Richie asked, even though he didn't want to know the answer.

"You're going to break into a store for us."

"I am? Oh... lucky me."

"We want some nice half-inch chains."

"What can you do with a chain half an inch long?"

"Not half an inch long, you numb-skull—half an inch _thick."_

"Ohhh..." Richie looked at the menacing faces around him. "Well, I do know this hardware store that carries them."

The leader thumped him on the shoulder. "Atta boy. Let's go."

* * *

Jimmy "the Squealer" Martin was the stereotypical good-for-nothing kid. He was absent from school more often than he was present, he stayed out late gathering secret information, and he dealt in gossip.

"Richie Cunningham. You seen him?" Fonzie asked, having cornered the Squealer by the rain barrel under the eaves of a drug store.

"Uh... Richie... uh..."

"Lemme refresh your memory. He's got red hair..." Fonzie grabbed Jimmy by the shirt front and dunked his head in the barrel. "...and freckles."

"Oh," Jimmy coughed, "that Richie... big ears... wears too many cardigans."

"That's the one."

"Yeah, I saw him headed toward his old man's store a while ago with a bunch of kids."

"What bunch of kids?"

"Got a dime?"

"You know, I think there's one at the bottom of this barrel—want me to help you look?" Fonzie asked menacingly.

"N-never mind... I remember. It was a pack of those Demons."

"The Demons. Thanks, Jimmy." Fonzie patted the younger boy's face. "Stay outta trouble, huh?" He started his motorcycle and charged off down the street.

He stopped short of his destination and continued on foot. When he got to Cunningham Hardware, it looked ordinary at first glance. But as he approached, he could hear quiet voices inside. He hurried around to the back of the store. The stock room door had been forced open and stood ajar. Fonzie approached the door silently and then kicked it in with all his might.

He stepped over the unconscious form of the Demon who had been standing guard. From the store came a voice saying, "What was that?" and then someone was elected to go find out.

As the next Demon came through the doorway, Fonzie grabbed him around the neck and wrestled him to the ground. The Demon gasped and tugged at Fonzie's arm, but it did no good, and soon he passed out beside the first Demon.

Then a voice said sharply, "Hey, what are you doing over there?"

Fonzie leaned on the door post, waiting for the best moment to enter.

"A phone, huh? Gonna call for help, huh?"

Fonzie heard something hit the floor with a _clunk_ and a _ding._ He rolled around the door frame and into the room. "I hope that's not broken," he said, nodding toward the phone on the floor behind the sales counter.

"Nah, it ain't broken," the Demon answered. Then he looked up in surprise. "Oh, uh... what brings you here?"

"Well, seeing as the store is closed, I didn't come here to shop."

There were two hoodlums to back up the leader, and all of them held a length of heavy chain, but Fonzie wasn't worried. The Demons, on the other hand, looked none too sure of themselves.

"What happened to Mack and Denny?" the leader asked, obviously meaning the two unconscious guys in the other room.

"Oh, it's the funniest thing," Fonzie answered. "It was just so late, you know, they decided to go to sleep." He turned to Richie. "You know, your folks are pretty worried about you, Red. Why don't you pick up that phone and give 'em a call?"

When Richie started to go around the counter, the Demon leader signaled his cronies and they rushed at Fonzie. It was a braver attempt than anyone had made for some time, even three against one, and Fonzie had to give them credit for guts.

As the first chain came at him, his hand shot out and grabbed the swinging end. He jerked it downwards, tearing it out of the leader's hands. "Are you crazy? You could hurt someone with that," he said, dropping it to the floor. Then he swung his fist to hit the leader in the side of the head, knocking it against the head of his nearest crony. A second chain hit the floor. The third Demon decided to cut his losses. He dropped his chain and ran to the front door. It took him a moment to unbolt it; then he flung it open and ran like a startled rabbit.

Dazed and disarmed, the others made the wise choice to follow.

Richie set the phone on the counter. "I don't think it's damaged," he said.

"Good," said Fonzie. "I'll make the call." He dialed the Cunninghams' number and soon Howard picked up. "Mr. C, Richie's just fine. We're at the hardware store. Go ahead and call the cops though, 'cause we've got a couple of would-be robbers over here, and the lock on your back door needs fixing."

* * *

_Hope you're enjoying the story... 17 chapters and only 3 people have given any feedback, so it's hard to tell if you're enjoying it or not.  
_


	18. A Step In the Right Direction

_The Cool Kat, thank you so much for a great review! My other stories do get more, but quantity is no substitute for quality. It's very encouraging to know you appreciate my character accuracy and trying to make the story fit with the show. I hope the comic relief does its job, too. I sometimes lay the angst on super heavy. ^_- Since your review was so nice, I'm going to post another chapter after this one very soon.  
_

_As usual, I tried for period accuracy; if I messed something up I apologize._

* * *

**A Step In the Right Direction  
**

* * *

"Next time, go straight home," Fonzie scolded. "What did you think you were doing?"

"I didn't want to go home at all," Richie retorted. "I don't want to go home now, either. I hate this."

Fonzie couldn't stay stern. He pulled Richie into a hug.

"Thanks," Richie said. "For coming, I mean. Stopping them."

"That's all right."

"I'm sure dad will be grateful..."

"It won't change anything."

Richie sighed. "I know." He squeezed Fonzie. "This isn't fair."

"Easy on the leather there, kid."

"Sorry."

Fonzie rubbed Richie's back slowly. Then he heard sirens in the distance. "Sounds like our guests are arriving. Come on."

They went back to the stock room where they had left the two Demons tied up with sturdy rope, courtesy of Cunningham Hardware.

Howard came in first. He spared a rueful glance for the broken door before going to Richie and and hugging him.

"Richie, we were so worried. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, dad. Fonzie came at just the right time."

Fonzie greeted the police officers as they entered and directed them to the Demons. "Here are your hoods. They made this poor, innocent kid break into his own pop's store and they were going to make off with some very strong, painful-looking chains. And I don't think they planned on using 'em for snow tires."

The officers hauled the Demons up off the floor and marched them toward the door.

"Oh, do you mind handcuffing them?" Howard asked. "That rope is store merchandise."

The police obliged.

"Thanks," said Richie, gathering up the rope.

"We'll need you to come to the station tomorrow to leave your statements," the superior officer told Howard.

"I'll bring Richard right after school," Howard answered.

"I'll drop by in the morning," said Fonzie.

When the police had gone, Howard fetched a padlock from the store and rigged a temporary fix on the door.

"I'm gonna head home," Fonzie declared.

"Fonzie," said Howard, "thank you—for finding Richie and preventing any theft."

"You don't have to thank me, Mr. C. Any time." Fonzie left before Howard or Richie could say anything else.

He tried not to think about how empty his apartment was, or about anything that had happened that day. It was over. Tomorrow he would go to work, and after that he would look for a new apartment.

Once he had changed into pajamas and brushed his teeth, Fonzie pulled out the couch bed and crawled under the blankets. He leaned toward the far side of the bed and sniffed. Then he pushed his face into the pillow and inhaled deeply. A touch of Richie's scent was hanging on over there—his shampoo or something.

Fonzie groaned. _How can I forget this? Yesterday everything was normal, and now it's such a mess._ He pulled the extra pillow against his chest and waited stubbornly for sleep to overtake him.

* * *

Getting ready for his police visit and work the next morning was a slow, unhappy process. He debated several minutes about whether or not to go to the Cunninghams' back door. He waited until Howard was gone and Richie and Joanie left for school before he made up his mind to approach. He knocked quietly on the door.

"Who is it?" Marion called.

"It's me," Fonzie said simply.

"Oh, come in, Arthur."

Fonzie walked into the kitchen to see Marion cleaning up the breakfast dishes.

"Your thermos is on the counter, dear," Marion said without looking up from her work.

Fonzie walked to the counter very slowly, wanting to stay in the house as long as possible. He put his hands around the warm thermos. "Thank you, Mrs. C," he said quietly.

"You're welcome."

Fonzie carried his coffee back just as slowly, easing the back door open again very reluctantly.

"Arthur?"

Fonzie stepped quickly back toward Marion. "Yeah?"

Marion distractedly wiped her hands on her apron and stole a glance at him. "I... I just want you to know that I don't believe you meant Richie any harm. And I do wish you didn't have to go."

Fonzie put one fist over his heart. "I'm glad to hear you say that, Mrs. C. I was afraid you might be worrying, and I sure didn't want you to think..."

Marion patted his shoulder. "Don't fret over it... you just go on to work and have a lovely day, and don't worry about Howard. He won't stay upset forever—you'll see."

"I hope you're right." Fonzie held up his thermos. "Thanks again."

The day seemed a little more worth facing now, but Fonzie still felt like hitting someone.

He tried to throw himself into his work, but in the back of his mind all he could think about was never being able to see Richie again. When work was done for the day he called the Hooper triplets and told them to come to his apartment after dinner. Then he left Bronko's, but he didn't head home. There was something he had to do first.

* * *

Richie was tired of pretending to be fine. He'd managed to fool Ralph and Potsie well enough that they hadn't asked any questions, but he doubted he could keep it up. They hadn't pressed him when he said he was busy that afternoon, so he figured they already suspected something was up.

At dinner, he ate mechanically, barely tasting his food. Howard seemed determined to keep the conversation light and "normal," but the rest of the family wasn't holding up to it very well. Finally, Joanie burst the false calm.

"I talked to Jenny Piccolo today. She told me she's got a black sheep cousin who ran off with an airline pilot."

"It's not polite to gossip," Howard scolded.

"Just because she ran off with a pilot, I don't see why that makes her a black sheep," said Marion. "I'm sure they'll settle down and—"

"Not she, mom. _He_ ran off with a pilot."

"A woman airline pilot? My, that must be an exciting life."

"No, mom, they're _both _he's. Her cousin Henry fell in love with a man. That's why he's a black sheep."

Howard and Marion sat in stunned silence.

"Why were you talking to Jenny Piccolo about that?" Richie demanded.

"I didn't tell her anything about you and Fonzie—I know how to keep my mouth shut."

"Fonzie and I are not in love. You got that?"

"I know, I know. He was just giving a kissing lesson. I just think it's interesting."

"It is not interesting," Howard snapped. "And it's nothing for you to be talking about. You stay away from that Jenny Piccolo; she's bad news."

"Well, she's news, anyway," Joanie muttered. "All kinds."

Richie gave his father an appealing look. "Dad, can't we talk about this?"

"I don't think the Piccolo boy is any of our business," said Howard.

"I don't mean him! I mean, can't we talk about Fonzie?"

"There's no point in talking about him."

"I think there is. Like I said, Fonzie and I aren't in love. And he hasn't got any bad intentions toward me. He's my friend, that's all."

"That's no way for a friend to behave."

"What about family?"

"He's not a member of this family."

"Don't you remember when he came for Christmas? He was just like family then. And when he moved in—have you forgotten about that? He thinks of all of us as his family, but when something happens, what do you do? You ground me and throw him out, that's what."

"Richard, family doesn't do things like that."

"Well, maybe it's me you should be throwing out, have you thought of that? Fonzie didn't do anything wrong any more than I did. And what about Aunt Matilda? You going to tell her she can't see me either?"

"What does Aunt Matilda have to do with it?"

"Every time she sees me she says 'There you are, sweetie-pie, give me a kiss!' and she makes me kiss her on the mouth. It's gross. But I do it. I do it!" Richie declared, poking himself in the chest in martyrdom.

"She does," Joanie agreed, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

"That's different," said Howard.

"It's not different. I think you just don't like Fonzie. You never have, so you always assume the worst of him. Well, Fonzie's never assumed the worst about you, dad. He looks up to you. I don't know why. You know what Fonzie thinks of you keeping us apart? He thinks we'll have to bide our time until we can hang out without upsetting anyone. I don't want to wait around for you and mom to _die _so I can be with my friend."

Marion gave a little gasp.

Richie stood up. "I'm not going to, either."

"Sit down, son," Howard said firmly.

Richie headed for the stairs.

"Richie, come back here."

Richie ignored his father and went to his room. He knew he was in for it later, but he was determined to stand his ground.

* * *

Homework done and nothing else to hold his interest, Richie lay on his bed, tossing a softball into the air and catching it. He was perfectly happy to let a noise from the window interrupt the monotony. The noise was a familiar one: Ralph making an uninvited appearance after dark.

Richie went to the window and opened it to let Ralph into his room.

"Hey," said Ralph as he swung his legs inside. "I went to the front door but your dad said you were grounded. I had to tell you the news."

"News?"

"Yeah, one of the lifeguards down at the Y got beat up today. He won't say who did it."

"That's crazy... would he say anything about it?"

"Yeah. He says no one beat him up—he just fell down and smacked his face on the tile at the pool. No one believes that, though. It was Gabe, the lifeguard on duty the day you and I went swimming. I think someone beat him up because he wasn't doing his job that day. And I don't think I need to say who I think it was."

"No, you don't," Richie agreed. _Fonzie. He made a note of that lifeguard's name, and he said none of this would have happened if I hadn't been hurt._ "I guess I should talk to him... but being grounded, that won't be easy."

"Hey, what are you grounded for, anyway?"

Richie sighed. "Basically my dad overreacting about something. I don't care to go into the details. And I'd rather Potsie didn't know, either."

"Okay." Ralph still looked curious, but he didn't push it. "Guess I better go. See you tomorrow." He went out the way he had come, making a quiet thump as his feet hit the ground.

Richie closed the window. While he got ready for bed, he pondered what he would say to Fonzie and how he could get away with talking to him. He was about to try to go to sleep when there was a knock at his door.

"Richie, may I come in?" came Howard's voice.

"It's your house," Richie answered, deciding he may as well keep up his rebellious attitude.

"Yes, it's my house," said Howard, coming into the room. "More importantly, you're my son." He closed the door behind him and went to sit on the edge of Richie's bed. "Now, I don't appreciate the way you acted at dinner, but I want you to know I've been thinking about what you said. Maybe I have prejudged Fonzie a little bit because I know his reputation, and I've expected him to be a bad influence on you and Joanie."

"A little bit?" Richie repeated sarcastically.

"Listen: if you want to tell me why this happened, I'm ready to hear the whole story. If you're sure Fonzie isn't any more to blame than you are, and he had good intentions, then I'll talk to him again and he can probably stay."

Relief started to lift the weight that had been sitting on Richie's chest all day. Slowly, he told the story of Fonzie teaching him to be a better kisser, Fonzie's limited knowledge of brotherly affection, and Joanie's accidental observation of their celebratory kiss the morning before.

"Duration, intensity and creativity," Howard muttered. "He's got it down to a science. I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

"You can't spread that around," Richie told him seriously. "It's a trade secret."

"Oh, I understand."

"Do you understand the rest of it now? why we kissed in front of Joanie?"

"I... I think so, but..." Howard sighed. "You have to understand where I'm coming from. When I was in the army, if two men were caught kissing, they might be discharged."

"Discharged? Really?"

"It would depend on who caught them... I've heard that in the last few years they've gotten very tough about that in the military. There wasn't any law about effeminate men serving in the army back in my time, but that didn't mean they wouldn't have trouble for it. I remember being stationed at a base near Chicago for a few months. Some of us avoided the city altogether—there was this thing called the 'pansy craze' going on. Men who preferred the company of other men, and women who liked women too, got away with a lot more in Chicago than they could in most places. Our chaplain warned us that those people were sick, and we should avoid them if we didn't want to end up like them."

"It's a little different," said Richie. "I mean, I like Fonzie, but I don't want to date him or anything. You don't have to worry about that."

"Well... supposing Fonzie doesn't think of it the way you do?"

"He does. And even if he didn't, he'd never pressure me about it. I'm sure of it."

"All right. I'll talk to Fonzie, and if he backs up what you've told me, I don't think it'll be necessary for him to move out. That's not to say I think there's no harm in all of this... I think it's a dangerous game you two are playing, and you ought to be more careful. But we can talk about that more later."

Knowing that Fonzie would probably get to stay was good enough for now. "Thanks for listening, dad," Richie said. "And I'm sorry for being rude at dinner."

"That's all right." Howard leaned forward and kissed the top of Richie's head. "And by the way, you're still grounded."

"Yeah... I figured."

* * *

_Father may not always know best, but at least he tries his best.  
_


	19. Ground Rules

_As promised, another chapter posted quickly. ^^_

* * *

**Ground Rules  
**

* * *

Tuesday morning, Fonzie saw Richie and Joanie leave for school, but Howard's car was still parked outside the house. He didn't like to be late, but he wanted his coffee. Finally, he decided that if he ran into Howard, he couldn't make things much worse than he had already, so he headed down to the Cunninghams' back door.

Marion opened the door for him when he knocked. "Good morning, Arthur. Your thermos is on the table." Then she left the room.

The thermos was indeed on the kitchen table. Howard was seated at the kitchen table.

"Good morning, Mr. C," Fonzie said a little stiffly.

"Morning, Fonzie. Would you sit down a minute? I'd like to talk to you."

Fonzie approached the table warily. "I really should get going. I've got a lot of work to get done at the garage, and then I gotta start looking for an apartment, you know?"

"I'll try to be quick," said Howard.

Trying to appear nonchalant, Fonzie took a seat and pulled his thermos toward himself. "Guess I can make time."

"Thank you." Howard had some scrambled eggs on the plate in front of him, and he poked at them with his fork. "Last night I had a talk with Richie. He told me a little more about this situation—things leading up to it and so on."

"I see."

"I'd like to hear it from you—get your perspective."

"What for?"

"Because I don't want you to move if it's not necessary."

"You don't?"

There was an awkward pause.

"No, I don't," Howard said at last.

"Why not?"

"Well, the last couple of years, you've been like a member of the family. I don't want to send you away without at least giving you a chance to explain yourself."

Having convinced himself that Howard would never budge on this matter, Fonzie was taken by surprise. He looked away, trying to give his eyes a chance to clear. "Well, um," he said, his throat tight, "that's nice." He cleared his throat. "Is it dusty in here?"

"You know, I think someone burned some toast this morning; that's probably it."

"Oh, yeah... smoke in the air." Fonzie took this excuse and brushed a hand over his eyes. "Uh, anyway... I guess you've been wondering if I'm one of those weirdos who likes guys the same way as girls... but if I was, I'd do something about it, you know? I'd find a way to beat it, or I'd take care of it one way or another. The fact is, I enjoy my alone time with women. I don't get close to guys... except your son, whom I l..." Fonzie got stuck on the word. "I, uh... I care about him very much."

"But you're not in love with him?"

Fonzie shook his head. "I know it's not really the thing for guys to kiss each other on the mouth, but for one thing, I'm Italian, and for another, I was trying to help Richie improve his game; get a little more skill, if you get my drift."

"I know that's how it started, but when Joanie saw you, you weren't giving him a lesson, were you?"

"No... that was kind of... spontaneous. Richie could read again, and I was happy for him. It's true, I wouldn't kiss any guy who had something really good happen to him, but it's not the same as kissing a girl. I don't think I can really explain it."

Howard poked at his eggs some more. "Well... I think it's clear that you're not trying to seduce Richie..."

"Ay, I wouldn't do something like that." Fonzie thought it over. "The idea kinda turns my gut, know what I mean?"

"Yes, I know what you mean. I know you didn't have the benefit of having parents or brothers and sisters around when you were growing up, but I hope you can understand that I love Richie, and I need to know that he's safe and making good decisions."

Fonzie tapped his thumb against his thermos, wishing he didn't have to say anything else. "You want the kissing to stop."

"I think that would be for the best."

"If I can't give you my word, does that mean I can't stay?"

Howard's silence was a clear answer.

"Okay, I understand. Richie's your kid, he means the world to you—how can you trust a guy who's more intimate with him than you are? It's probably a scary thought. Well, I don't want to cause problems in anyone's family... so, if I have to make that promise to stay here, then I will. I'd rather get to see Richie with some conditions than not see him at all."

"Thank you; I think that's a good attitude to have. It might be a little strange at first, but I think everything will go back to normal pretty quickly." Howard held out his hand and Fonzie shook it.

"I won't kiss him anymore," Fonzie said. "But I hope you know, it won't change what I think of him or how I feel about him."

Howard nodded. "If it did, that wouldn't say much for you. I've got to get to work now, and I'm sure you do, too." He scooped some egg into his mouth.

"Yeah, I should go. Thanks for talking this over with me... I really didn't want to leave."

Marion burst into the kitchen suddenly and went to Fonzie. "I'm so glad you're staying, Arthur. Didn't I say things would work out?"

"Marion, Fonzie needs to go to work," Howard said firmly.

"Yes, of course. Have a nice day, dear." Marion kissed Fonzie's cheek.

Fonzie smiled. He felt good for the first time in days. "Thanks, Mrs. C. You are the reason the sun gets up so early in the morning. Bye, Mr. C."

* * *

Richie was baffled when Marion started setting five places at the table. "Are we having company?"

"No; Arthur will be having dinner with us tonight. He doesn't have a supper date," Marion explained.

"Uh... does dad know?"

"Yes, they talked this morning and your father decided that Arthur doesn't have to move."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want you to get all excited and run off without doing your homework."

"Mom, my homework has been done for an hour!"

Marion beamed. "See how quickly you can get done when you're not excited and able to concentrate?"

Richie decided to let it go. "I'll get the silverware," he offered.

When Fonzie came in later, Richie tried to act how he normally would, greeting his friend with a weak smile and a nod. Soon after, Howard came in with a "Daddy's home" that was more reserved than usual.

"So, I guess Fonzie's staying?" said Joanie, as soon as the blessing was done.

"Yes, Fonzie's staying," said Howard. "We've talked it over, and it's settled."

"Does that mean he's still allowed to give Richie kissing lessons?"

"Joanie!" Richie exclaimed, horrified.

"No, it doesn't." Howard sighed. "I didn't want to talk about this over dinner, but I guess since the subject's come up..."

Richie glared at Joanie, "Funny how these things just happen to come up."

Howard went on. "Fonzie doesn't have to leave, but I think it would be sensible for all of us to be a little more careful and lay out a few ground rules."

Richie and Fonzie exchanged a quick look.

"It's been brought to my attention that Fonzie is like a member of the family, and I think it would be good all around if he were treated a little more like family."

Marion looked uncertain. "Isn't it a bit late to enforce a bedtime on him, Howard?"

"I'm not talking about curfew—when Chuck was living over the garage, we told him as long as his studies weren't suffering, he could choose his own bedtime. You remember that, don't you? Anyway, what I mean is that if Chuck had been kissing Richie in front of Joanie in the living room, I would have been pretty upset about that, too."

Richie grimaced. _Kiss Chuck? What a nasty thought..._

"Eww!" Joanie said, having no qualms at all about sharing her feelings.

"So," Howard continued, "I don't think it's unreasonable to say that I don't want any of you three kissing each other on the mouth—not Richie and Fonzie, not Richie and Joanie, not Joanie and Fonzie." He paused, looking disturbed at his own words as what he had said worked into his imagination.

"I don't know," said Joanie. "I don't think it would be too weird for me to kiss Fonzie..."

"You don't have to worry about that, Mr. C," Fonzie said quickly. "I understand what you're saying, and I'll treat Shortcake just like my own little sister."

Joanie put her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands. "I never get to have any fun."

"Second, I don't want Richie or Joanie going into the apartment, and I want Fonzie to stay out of their bedrooms."

Richie couldn't help it; he had to say something. "Dad... not go into the apartment?"

"Not without supervision. I'd rather you weren't anywhere alone together for a while, in light of what happened."

"Gee, it's like being at summer camp," Joanie muttered. "If two kids get in a fight, the counselors don't give them any peace the whole rest of the week."

"A week sounds good for a trial run," Howard said. "Thank you for the idea, Joanie."

"Yeah, thanks," Richie said, giving her another glare.

"Soon, everything will be back to normal," Marion said cheerfully. "Who would like another roll?"

Howard lifted his plate.

"Not you, Howard," said Marion. "Richie?"

Richie accepted the roll a little glumly. Maybe things would be back to normal soon... but he wasn't sure he wanted that anymore.

* * *

The days passed very slowly. Richie heard from Ralph and Potsie that Fonzie seemed to be getting into more fights than usual. Richie still hadn't figured out how to talk to Fonzie about Gabe the lifeguard, and he really didn't look forward to it.

Howard allowed Richie to take Harriet out Friday night, and that little taste of freedom felt good. He couldn't explain to Harriet why he hadn't called her sooner, and though she took it well, it was frustrating. At least he could drive this time. He made the trip back home last, taking the car down the "scenic route."

"Harriet, can I ask you something?" Richie said tentatively.

"Sure, go ahead," she answered.

"Well, this is our third date, isn't it?"

"Mhm."

"Have you seen any other guys in the meantime?"

"I haven't really got the chance—all-girls school, remember?"

"Right... Well, I was wondering, would you consider this going steady?"

"I don't know." Harriet took her time thinking about it. "Do you want to go steady with me?"

"I... I might. But I'm not sure I'm ready to be so exclusive."

"Is there someone else you've got your eye on?"

"Not exactly." Richie swallowed. This was difficult, to say the least, and a little dangerous. "See, I've got this good friend... we've been friends for years, and we've gotten pretty close. If I were to go steady with you, it probably wouldn't be fair to be that close with this friend anymore. But I don't want to hurt the friend's feelings. Do you see what I mean?"

"I think so. You'd like to go steady with me, but not at the expense of that good friendship."

"Right. What do you think I should do?"

"Well, I wouldn't want you to lose a good friend because of me. So how about this: you can still make time to do things with her, as long as you tell her we're going steady and you're not going to get serious with anyone else."

"That seems pretty reasonable," Richie said. _If you change "her" to "him."_ He pulled into the Taylors' driveway. "Thanks a lot, Harriet. You're a great girl."

"You're not so bad yourself."

Richie was pleased when she met his kiss halfway. He cupped her face gently and gave her what he hoped was a sincere, meaningful, but gentlemanly kiss.

"Good night," Harriet said softly.

"Hold on; I'll get the door for you." Richie got out and hurried around to open Harriet's car door. Then he walked her up to the door of the house.

"I had a great time."

"I did, too."

Harriet opened the door. "Call me tomorrow?"

"I will. Good night, Harriet."

When the door closed, Richie pumped his fist in the air. "Yes," he said quietly. _I can stay close to Fonzie without feeling guilty. I got the kiss right. I remembered to use her name. Cunningham is flying high._ He felt pleased all the way home.

As he got out of the car, he heard Fonzie's voice.

"Welcome home, Red."

Richie looked up to see Fonzie at the top of the steps to his apartment.

"Hey, Fonz."

"How'd it go?"

Richie lifted his arm high over his head and gave Fonzie a thumbs-up.

"Nice."

"Yeah. I wish I could come up and tell you about it, but the week isn't over yet..."

"Can't you tell me from there?"

"Not really... I can't keep my voice down if I want you to hear everything..."

"That good, huh?"

Richie could tell from his tone that Fonzie was grinning. "Are you coming over for lunch tomorrow?"

"I can."

"Dad dug out _The Last of the Mohicans _for me. We could start reading that, and maybe I'll get a chance to tell you about tonight."

"I'll be there."

He wanted to tell Fonzie the story right then, and to hug him after, but the last few days had taught him restraint. It had been very hard at first, but it was finally getting a little easier. He headed into the house.

Howard was sitting up in the living room watching TV and drinking cocoa. "Good evening, Richard," he said.

"Hi, dad."

"How was your night?"

"Fine."

"That Fonzie you were talking to?"

"Yeah—but he was up on the stairs and I stayed down below," Richie said quickly.

"That's fine. You know, the week is half over, and I think you've done very well. I appreciate that you haven't argued about keeping your distance. I know it hasn't been easy."

"Well... I appreciate that you gave Fonzie another chance. That probably wasn't so easy for you, either."

"We'll talk about it some more tomorrow, and decide how to go on from here, all right?"

"OK. Thanks, dad."

It sounded like they might get off the hook a little early. It wasn't much, but it was more than Richie had expected. _Thank God for small favors._

* * *

_The Fonz is out—leave a message._


End file.
